


When In Rome

by stargatefan_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-10-06 20:24:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 67,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10343913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargatefan_archivist/pseuds/stargatefan_archivist
Summary: SPOILERS: Tin Man, Need, Prisoners, maybe a few other episodes mentioned in passing.CONTENT WARNINGS: attempted NC (a very short scene); Lots of Jack-whumping; lesser amounts of Daniel, Sam, and Teal’c Whumping. Language, nudity. Disturbing imagery of a religious nature. Abuse of Latin.Strangers in a strange land, just trying to get home with a little help from a friend.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

When In Rome

##  When In Rome

##### Written by Silvia   
Comments? Write to us at [sivib626@airmail.net](mailto:sivib626@airmail.net)

  * SPOILERS: Tin Man, Need, Prisoners, maybe a few other episodes mentioned in passing. 
  * CONTENT WARNINGS: attempted NC (a very short scene); Lots of Jack-whumping; lesser amounts of Daniel, Sam, and Teal'c Whumping. Language, nudity. Disturbing imagery of a religious nature. Abuse of Latin. 
  * Strangers in a strange land, just trying to get home with a little help from a friend. 
  * R [D] [A] [Hc] 



* * *

INTRODUCTION:

> The character of Claudius is taken whole cloth from I, Claudius, by Robert Graves. He was a real Roman emperor, but this is a fictional account of his life. He is described as having a very bad stutter, a limp, and chronic head twitch. He was also an historian and far ahead of his time. I highly recommend the BBC production of I, Claudius. Derek Jacobi plays the title role and is just superb. It's available on DVD from Amazon.com. The quote Daniel translates is by Epictetus, from the Enchiridon, translated by Richard Booker, 1996. 
> 
> Note on language: Daniel and Teal'c speak Latin, for the sake of argument. Sam and Jack don't. When someone is speaking to Sam or Jack and Daniel is not there, I use untranslated Latin (and poorly, I suspect). When we are in Daniel's POV, I translate what folks are saying most of the time, Ditto Teal'c. I'm very inconsistent with this, and it may grow confusing.
> 
> Note on Claudius' timeline: I'm setting this just prior to the birthday party with Livia. Tiberius is Emperor, and Caligula is just a pervert and a pest at this point. Claudius is 38 or 39 years old. 
> 
> Bibliography: I,Claudius. Robert Graves, 1934. Also the BBC production by the same name. The Penguin Historical Atlas of Ancient Rome, copyright 1995 by Chris Scarre. Handbook to Life in Ancient Rome. Lesley Adkins and Roy A. Adkins, 1994\. The New College Latin and English Dictionary. John Traupman, Ph.D., 1966\. And Bill Thayer's website on all things Roman, LacusCurtius.
> 
> Translations for the Latin are at the end of the story.

* * *

A clatter and a muffled gasp drew Claudius' attention from the scroll in his hand. One got used to the palace slaves being about; they were ubiquitous. Most of the time, they were also quiet. This one, however, was new. He was also noisy.  //D-do you mind? I'm t-t-trying to r-read.//  The scroll was a new history by Pollio, and one he had been trying to get to for some time. The slave murmured an apology and began picking up the scrolls he had knocked over. With a twitch of his head, Claudius dismissed him from his thoughts and returned to the scroll.

A few minutes later, a rustle of paper caught his attention. The slave was reading one of the scrolls, holding it very near his face. Intrigued, Claudius watched for a time as the young man devoured the manuscript. He studied the slave, almost as closely as the young man was studying the parchment. A tall man, well formed, with light brown hair that brushed the back of his neck. The loose tunica hid most of his skin, but what was displayed was pale and unblemished. A Celt, perhaps, or a German. But literate?

 //Do you kn-n-ow wh-a-at you're r-reading?//  The question was asked with some amusement and a great deal of curiosity. 

The slave looked up absently, his blue eyes wide with the effort of seeing the small letters.  //Um..yes. Yes I do. It's Quintillius Maximus' commentary on the Gallic invasion. I just don't know what it's doing *here*.//  His Latin was perfect, but strangely accented.

 //Well, it's here because I was r-referring t-to it last night.//  Claudius heaved himself to unsteady feet and lurched over to take the scroll from the slave's hands, rolling it carefully. Plucking another scroll from the pile, he handed it to the man and said,  //C-c-c-can you r-ead this?//  

Hesitantly, and again holding the parchment very close to his face, the man scanned the Greek letters.  //It's Epictetus, isn't it? 'Some things are within our power and some things are beyond our power. Those things within our power include opinions, goals, desires, and aversions, in other words, whatever affairs belong to us. Those things beyond our power include our bodies, property, reputation, and public office, that is, whatever does not properly belong to us. Those things within our power are naturally free….// 

 //Yes, yes, all right. You c-can stop. Who t-taught you to r-r-read Gr-reek? And wh-why do you hold it so c-c-c-close t-to your face?//  He snatched the scroll back and began rolling it up. 

The slave placed his finger at the bridge of his nose, then rubbed his eyes tiredly.  //Actually, I know twenty-three languages. Twenty-four if you count Goa'uld. And I have to hold the scrolls close to my face or I can't read them. I lost my glasses when we were,//  he paused, his eyes on some distant place.  //When I was taken.//  He grimaced, looking up at Claudius boldly, but not quite focusing.  //Is there anything else I can do for you?//  He crossed his arms over his torso, and Claudius thought he grew even paler in the dim light.

 //What is your name?//  He motioned the slave to sit, clearing off a stool. 

With a tired sigh, the younger man sat.  //Daniel. Doctor Daniel Jackson, to be exact. And you are?// 

 //I am T-t-Tiberius Claudius Drusus N-n-Nero Germanicus. And your m-master, D-d-Daniel.//  He said sternly.  //Y-you c-c-can forget that f-fact with me from t-time to time; nn-never with any one else.//  Claudius had never really stood on formality with his slaves. So long as they did their jobs and stayed out from underfoot, he was content to take care of himself for the most part. This slave, however, was intriguing.  //How many l-languages did you say?//  

Daniel grimaced.  //Twenty-three. Most of them dead.//  He pushed at the bridge of his nose again, a nervous gesture, and visibly tried to focus on Claudius.  //You're that madman's uncle, aren't you?//  

Alarmed, he shushed the younger man, limping quickly to the door to look for anyone passing who might have heard.  //Watch what you s-say, boy. Th-that m-m-madman is the Emperor's favorite nephew. He'd have you f-f-flayed alive if his spies h-heard you. Dolt.//  Satisfied they were in no danger, he closed the door and sat down again.  //You w-won't last long here if y-ou don't learn to m-mm-mind your tongue. And your manners.// 

The man laughed, a short and ugly sound.  //I know. I'm very new to this whole house slave thing. Last week, I was a civilian advisor to a top-secret government project. Last week, I knew where all my friends were and that they were safe and how to get home.//  The slave was getting angry; strangely, the angrier his words became the softer he spoke.  //Last week, I could choose my own destiny. Last week, I could *see *. So I apologize that I'm having a bit of trouble adjusting my attitude. It's been a very bad week.//  

Claudius blinked, dumbstruck by the slave's tirade.  //You're v-very strange. And not, I think, quite in y-your right mind,//  he said quietly.  //Where a-are you from?//  

The man seemed to deflate. With a sigh he said,  //Nowhere you've heard of. America. Colorado. I need to get back to the kitchens, if that's ok? Sam… I have a friend there who doesn't speak as much Latin as I do. I had just found her again when I was sent up here. I don't think she knows I'm in the palace.//  He rose, tucking the tray under his arm. 

 //Wait.//  There was something he had read, something tickling in the back of his mind. Something about strange travelers, and a circle of light. He began riffling through his scrolls, tossing the fragile parchments with abandon.  //It's here somewhere.// 

The slave waited with ill-disguised impatience.  //Please, I need to go.// 

 //Oh, for heaven's sake. What does your friend look like?//  Exasperated, Claudius poked his head out the door and called for a messenger.

 //Blonde, like you, with short hair and a bruise on her cheek.//  Daniel stumbled over the words, wincing.  //Her name's Samantha. Sam.// 

Claudius turned to the waiting messenger and gave him the description, telling him to fetch the slave from the kitchen and bring her to his rooms.  //Now…help m-me look.// 

Together they dove into the scrolls, un-rolling them part way to check their contents before discarding them once again.  //What are we looking for?//  Daniel asked.

 //You will know when we find it.//  

A few minutes later, both men were buried in loose parchment. A knock sounded at the door and a woman was pushed into the room. She aimed a stream of invective in a strange, guttural language at the messenger, who shrugged and gestured rudely. 

 Sam!  Daniel picked his way across the rustling floor and enveloped the disheveled woman in a hug, holding tight with his long arms.

A grin lit her face as she returned the slave's embrace. The only word Claudius understood was Daniel's name, but they spoke for some time in that guttural language. She seemed very relieved to see Daniel, and kept touching his arm, his face, almost as if to reassure herself of his reality. 

At long last, he turned her and with word and gesture, introduced Claudius. With very hesitant and heavily accented Latin, she said,  //It is honor Daniel friend of. Thank you.//  The older man had to smile; she was trying so hard. She smiled back, her bruised, smudged face lighting up once again.

 //Now that you have your f-friend, perhaps you would be so k-k-kind as to help me l-look for a scroll. I think I saw it over here, last.//  And in they dove again.

In the end, though, it was the woman who found what they sought. With a startled cry and another stream of garbled babble, she grabbed Daniel's sleeve and waved the scroll at him. He took it from her and carried it to the table, unrolling it carefully near the lamp and bending over to bring it into focus. Crow's feet formed as the young man squinted at the brightly illustrated text, his mouth moving silently as he read to himself.

A large round object surrounded by symbols and text in a language Claudius had never seen took up the center of the scroll. People were drawn moving into the circle, but not emerging the other side of it.  //Can you read this?//  He asked. No one had been able to translate that particular manuscript, to the best of his knowledge. Claudius had picked it up as a curio, a novelty, from a trader from Alexandria. 

 //Yes…I think.//  Daniel stood up and rubbed his red eyes fiercely. Samantha looked at him worriedly, her hand on his shoulder, and asked a question. He shook his head and bent to the manuscript again. She looked sadly at Claudius, then took a seat, waiting.

More lamps were called for, chasing all shadows from the room. Claudius also called for a tray to be brought, and wine. Both slaves were far too thin, though no one starved in the palace. On the whole, the palace slaves were very well treated, so long as they obeyed.

The woman nibbled on the fruits and cheese, but declined the wine. Daniel was oblivious, sunk deep in the parchment, his face mere inches from the letters. It was late in the evening before he looked up again, meeting Sam's worried eyes with a fierce and brilliant grin. He spoke hoarsely and her eyes filled in response. 

 //What did you say to her?// 

 //I told her we're going home. I know how. We just have to find Jack.//  The fierce blue eyes were trained on Claudius now.  //Will you help us? We don't belong here and we make terrible slaves. All of us have something terribly important to do back home. Millions of lives, hell, maybe billions of lives depend on us and what we do. Please help us.//  

The little room rang with the intensity, with the truth of the slave's plea. Claudius hesitated a bare moment before making up his mind.  //All right. I will.//  Daniel nodded at Samantha, translating softly. The moisture that had collected in her pale eyes overflowed in two shining tears as she broke into a huge grin. She launched herself at Claudius and embraced him. He could feel her tremors as she strove for control, and he hugged her in response, stroking her back and murmuring broken words of comfort she would not understand.

It would take some work to track down one solitary slave in Rome, and more work to free him, but Claudius was certain of a good story at the least when it was all over. He rolled up the precious scroll and told the two to bed down in his rooms. They would depart tomorrow, Gods willing, and begin their journey home.

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

The oil lamps were burning low, and the musty smell of burnt olives was heavy in the still air. The shutters were open, allowing an occasional breeze to drift through the warm room. The scent of jasmine and orange blossoms from the garden below trickled into Sam's awareness. The heady scent blotted out the sense memory of the past few days. The smell of fear and sweat in the pens, the rotten garlic riding on the breath of their overseer. The odor of the kitchens; rotting meat and baking bread and too many spices forming a nauseating miasma. Sam took a deep breath, inhaling through her nose with a deep and simple pleasure.

Guiltily, she reigned in her enjoyment of the moment. The Colonel was still out there and she doubted he was half as comfortable as she was at the moment. His stubbornness would be a liability in this situation, as would his sense of duty. She knew the Colonel would never stop trying to reunite the team and get them home. That was his job and Colonel Jack O'Neill took his job very seriously.

He would, she realized, probably get himself killed trying to do that job. There was no Underground Railroad here, no abolitionist movement, nowhere to run. There were even laws, she distantly remembered from a world civ class eons ago, that promised death to anyone who was caught aiding a fugitive slave. The odds of escape were very bad, which was how Roman society maintained its hold upon the people it subjugated.  Nowhere to run; nowhere to hide,  she muttered.

Sam drew up her legs and leaned against the cool stone wall, looking out on the moonlit garden below. She had learned quickly to grab these moments of peace where she could, and the imperial gardens were beautiful by moonlight.  I'd trade in a heartbeat for gun metal gray corridors and a cup of stale coffee from the commissary. And to have Teal'c back.  She was occasionally ashamed of herself, a soldier so easily moved to tears, but she missed the big Jaffa. 

With a soft groan, the door to the small chamber opened on its stiff hinges. Sam scrambled to her feet, fighting clear of the linen sheet, and looked around for something to use as a weapon. She grabbed up a heavy ceramic pitcher and held it ready.

 Sedare. E-ejus a me.  She recognized the stammer before the man in the dim light. Claudius looked into the room from the doorway, his expression unsure and a bit uncomfortable. 

Sam put down the pitcher and sat on the edge of the pallet-bed.  Um, hi. Sorry. 

By his unsure smile he understood her meaning, if not her words.  E-ego audire tu. Daniel d-dormitum. 

 I understood Daniel. Daniel…? 

The man cocked his head to the side, closed his eyes, and snored softly.  Oh, asleep. Daniel's asleep, finally. Well, good. He looked terrible.  She rubbed her own eyes tiredly, wincing as her hand passed over the darkening bruise on her cheek. Claudius just shrugged, clearly not understanding her words.  Never mind. Thanks. Gratias.  She leaned against the wall, her warm skin soaking in the coolness from the stones.

 Si placet, Sam. D-dormitum es 'asleep'? I-ita?  Claudius took a chair and sat, leaning forward. His head twitched from time to time, she noticed, but it did not seem to distract him too much. 

 Yes, I suppose,  she nodded.  But Daniel is the linguist. He can… 

 Si p-p-placet.  He waved her to silence and picked up the pitcher she had been planning to use as a weapon.  Urceus. 

 Urceus? Oh, the pitcher! Pitcher.  Claudius spoke the word back, stammering just a bit on the first letter. Sam had to smile. She looked about and then placed her hand on the lamp and named it.  Lamp. 

 L-lamp. Lucerna. Bene! L-lamp.  

By dawn, they had named everything in the room in Latin and English and Claudius' stammer had almost disappeared. It would take more than one evening for Sam to have a working knowledge of the language, but she had a better grasp now than before. Now she just wanted Daniel to wake up so they could start looking for the Colonel.

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

Dawn broke over the vineyard with the voice of two hundred groaning men and the clank of chains. The pickers were up first, being prodded through their morning meal and then out to the sloping, sun-battered vines, heavy with ripe grapes. The line of workers trailed out of the huge dormitory tent, grumbling into the already warm day. Guards walked down the row of pallets, prodding the rest of the slaves to rise.

Jack rolled to his feet from the thin pallet he had been pushed onto the night before. On arrival at the work camp, his tunica had been taken, leaving him with just a loincloth standing between him and the open air. The near nudity did not really bother him; after being stripped for auction he doubted he was capable of feeling embarrassed anymore. Watching his tent mates covertly, he quickly learned the most efficient way to wrap the long bit of cloth, tying it off securely at his waist before joining the line for chow.

 Damn, mornings are early here,  he said, half-aloud. The man behind him clouted his shoulder with a snarled,  Tace! 

 Hey! No need to get physical, pal.  He rubbed his shoulder, wincing. The man curled his lip in a sneer and pushed O'Neill forward as the line began to move.  Thanks. I would have realized the light was green in a moment.  

A guard, keeper, handler, whatever, looked over at Jack with a bored expression.  Tace, canis!  He tapped Jack's leg with a long, thin stick, not really enough to hurt but enough to let him know it could. Jack dropped his eyes to the ground and shuffled ahead with the pack. From the corner of his eye, though, he surveyed the encampment.

Not many guards that he could see. The only chains were on the pickers in the field. His eyes darted over the compound. It looked like a temporary camp set up for the slaves' use during harvest season. There was one permanent building, but he had not seen inside it as yet. The rest of the operation was run out of tents and in the open air. 

A wooden bowl was thrust into his hands, a thin and unappetizing gruel poured into it by a bored looking woman. Thanking her, he carried his breakfast to sit with the group of men under the only tree in the camp, nudging his way into the shade with a snarl. He scooped up the gruel with his hand, remembering the slop from Hadate with a grimace, and resumed his surveillance.

No weapons, apart from sticks and a few knives. The guards were outnumbered by their charges. Jack smiled, then schooled his face into a mask of acceptance. Tonight, before the chains went on at bedtime, he'd make a break for it. Then he'd find Carter and Daniel and a way home. He wouldn't let himself think about Teal'c, or about the possibility of failure.

 Progredi, canis!  A whistling sound, then a sharp pain across his upper back brought O'Neill out of his contemplation and to his feet, glaring at the sun-browned face of one of the overseers. The mass of men at his back edged away from him, averting their eyes.

 What the hell?!  The words had not left his mouth before he realized his mistake. The guard was bored. He was just looking for some entertainment. Well, Jack was damned if he was going to be the source of that entertainment. He dropped his gaze to the ground.

The man smiled at Jack; his mouth was full of broken teeth and the smile never reached his eyes.  Vexatoris tu, Milesitis Senex?  He stepped up to Jack, close enough for the smell of his rotting mouth to turn O'Neill's stomach.  Eh?  The man knocked the bowl from Jack's hand, spilling the thin gruel on the ground. 

Keeping his eyes down, his face still, Jack shook his head. He had no idea what the man was saying, but he was clearly trying to get Jack to start something. Pitching his tone to respectful subservience, Jack said,  Sorry, turdbreath. Fuck you very much. 

 Heh. Milesitis Senex. Bene!  The guard cuffed Jack's head with a hard fist and walked away laughing. 

 Whatever.  Jack's stomach rumbled, complaining, and he picked up his bowl to scoop whatever was left of the unappetizing stuff into his mouth. 

After breakfast, or what passed for breakfast, the guards moved through the mass of slaves, separating them into groups for the day's work. Jack was with the smallest group, and he found himself being herded to the only building. The stucco structure was actually just two big rooms. In the first was a raised platform, scored across with thin troughs and surrounded by a stone moat. Through the open door, Jack saw a large press in the second room. 

It was in the first room, however, that Jack was stopped. With shouts and shoving, he was pushed to stand on the platform. A loose iron collar was affixed around his neck. It was attached to a chain that stretched up and looped over the rafters of the dim building. Two other men were similarly secured. They looked tired and worn, their skin stretched thin over whipcord muscle, their legs and torsos covered with bruises and welts. One of the men had a brand on his cheek. The letters  FUG  stood out in red and angry relief against his sun darkened skin.

The door opened again, and a line of men carrying baskets walked in, dumping their contents on the platform. Grapes. 

 Iter facere, Milesitis Senex!  A familiar voice said. Jack looked over his shoulder at the grinning face of his snag-toothed guard.

 Great. Wonderful.  The other two men had begun marching over the grapes, mashing them into a juicy pulp.  Marching. Thought I was done with that.  And he took a squishy step into the purple mass.  Ewwwww…. I hate steppin' in squishy stuff. 

 Tace! Iter facere!  

He heard the whistle as the cane sped through the air seconds before it landed across his lower back. Grimacing, he trod forward and began marching over the grapes. 

 Celeris, Milesitis Senex.  The cane licked fire over his calves as he marched in place, the grape smell rising around him. Grape juice had always been one of his favorites as a kid. No more. 

Bearers brought in more grapes, scraping the stems and seeds into baskets for further pressing. An hour passed, with the occasional shout of  Celeris!  which Jack had translated to mean that he was to march faster. The cane flicking like a brand over his burning calves helped in the translation. Another hour and his thighs were aching and sore. The day was warming up; the stucco building held the cool for a while, but now the room was turning uncomfortably warm. He looked up from time to time to look through the high window, marking the sun's passage. Another hour. 

 Desistere! 

The other two chained men stopped immediately, sweat glistening on their torsos as they took in deep breaths. Jack stopped a moment later, noting for the first time just how thirsty he was. His legs felt like lead weights, and his feet were sore from treading on grape seeds and stems all morning. 

The other men were quickly unchained and were pushed, stumbling, out of the room. Two new workers were brought in and the command came again,  Iter facere!  

 Hey! A break would be nice!  Jack pulled angrily at the chain at his neck.  Some water? Agua? H20?  He held an imaginary glass to his mouth and took a drink.  Come on! 

The guard looked puzzled, and then a light dawned.  Aqua? Egere aqua?  He grinned, showing off his state of the art dental work again, and took down the sloshing water skin he had been sipping from for most of the morning from its hook on the wall. 

 Yes, aqua. I'd really like some aqua.  

Uncorking the skin, the man took a long drink. Then he held the skin out to Jack, but it was just out of reach. Straining against the chain at his neck, O'Neill stretched, but his fingers fell far short. The guard laughed and poured the skin out on the floor, the patter of liquid on the stones making Jack even thirstier.  Asshole.  

 Iter facere, Milesitis Senex. Milesitis grandis. Bellator vallidisium!  The other two slaves were laughing now. Jack rolled his eyes and started treading over the pile of grapes once again.

 Like I know what the hell you're calling me, jerk-off,  he muttered. Damn, he was thirsty.

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

Someone was dragging him over rocks. The movement was sporadic, as if the person was having a difficult time, and the jerks were marked by low grunting noises. Teal'c looked around. He was on a sheet of some kind, moving slowly through a stand of trees. The sun was low in the sky, in the East, so it was morning. He was very weak; his symbiote moved sluggishly within, healing itself. There was pain in his side and he could smell blood.

With an effort, he rolled free of his conveyance. The sudden lack of weight caused quick forward motion on the part of the person who had been dragging him, and Teal'c heard him cry out and fall to the ground. 

Climbing painfully to his feet, Teal'c walked to where an old man lay, cowering away from him.  Do not hurt me, demon. I am an old man. Please. 

The man spoke in a language Teal'c had heard the followers of Chronos use, during Teal'c's service as First Prime of Apophis. He answered back in that same language.  I will not hurt you. I am not a demon. Where are my friends?  He stretched a hand down to help the man up. There was something familiar about the bearded face, the wine stained clothes. Grasping the old man's hand, he pulled him to his feet, looking intently in the man's face.  Do I not know you? 

 Oh, no, no. I would remember. Thank you for not…for helping me up. Good day!  And the man started to totter quickly back the way he had come.

 Stop!  Teal'c had found over time that his voice could influence the actions of others, when pitched forcefully. The man stopped, looking fearfully back over his shoulder.

 Ah, yes? Can I help you? 

 Indeed. You can tell me about this place. Perhaps this will help me find my friends.  A sharp pain in Teal'c's side brought a grimace to his face. He placed his hand over the pain and pressed down. Warmth filled his palm; looking down, he could see where the blood had run freely from the wound there. 

 You are in pain?  The old man looked honestly concerned, but was backing away down the trail as he spoke.

 I have suffered worse wounds. I will recover. Stop moving and tell me of this place. What is your name? 

Nervously, the old man looked at his hands.  Selvanus. Do you remember nothing of how you came to be injured? 

Memories were tickling the back of Teal'c's mind; a device of Ma'chello's, a bright light, then,  Soldiers. No, not soldiers. They wore no uniforms or armor. But they attacked us at a house. An old man had given shelter.  He paused, looking hard at the trembling figure.  He fed us and we then slept until the others arrived. There was a battle and I took my wound. 

 You were dead, we thought,  the man supplied.  You lost so much blood and lay so still.  

 You were the cause, old man. Your food put us to sleep until the others could arrive.  Angry now, Teal'c advanced on the man and picked him up by the shoulders of his tunica. He shook him, ignoring the flare of pain at his side or the hiss of his symbiote inside his gut.  Where are my friends? 

 I…I d-do not know! Please…  the man was rattled and terrified, but Teal'c could not really find it in his heart to care about that right now. 

 You know where they might be taken. You will tell me. 

 Rome…to Rome! To be sold! Do not kill me, demon, I did not know! 

Teal'c dropped the quivering man and pressed his hand to his side. The man crumpled into a ball in the dirt, hiding his face. There was no fresh blood when Teal'c took his hand away.  You will assist me in regaining my friends. You will give me clothes and the money you took for their capture. Then I will leave and you will never see me again. Understood? 

The man nodded frantically and leapt to his feet, motioning Teal'c to follow along the dirt road.

An hour or so later, dressed in a long tunica and sandals and armed with a sharp knife (the best weapon the old man had to offer), Teal'c set out on the road to Rome. A fat purse was tucked inside the folds of his cloak and several apples and a good hard cheese hung in a cloth bundle from his shoulder.

He knew he would need to stop soon and attempt kel-no-reem, to heal the wound in his side, but Teal'c wanted to make a few miles before sundown. Rome was at least two days away on foot, according to Selvanus, and he was already several days behind O'Neill, Daniel Jackson, and Major Carter. 

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

The sun slanting in through the shuttered windows woke Daniel at last. Muttered voices from the next room drew him, pulling on his tunica as he went, to investigate. 

 //Now, now. Don't be coy with me. Let's just see what dear Uncle Clau-Clau is hiding//.  

 Stop! Don't do that! I don't understand you.  Sam sounded a bit panicked, and Daniel pushed the door to her chamber open. A tall, pale man was looming over her bed, his golden hair highlighted by a circlet of bronze laurel leaves. The man was plucking at the sleeve of her shift, and tugging at the sheet. Sam looked mad enough to kill him with her glare alone, but had not raised a hand to defend herself yet. Wise, considering the situation, but things were escalating, from what little he could see. 

 //Leave her alone!//  Crossing the tiny room in two strides, he took the man by the shoulder and pulled him away from Sam's bed.  You okay?  he asked, looking over her rumpled form with an anxious squint. 

 I'm fine, but I'm fairly sure you shouldn't have done that, Daniel.  Sam scrambled out of bed and ran fingers through her tousled hair.  Who is this guy, anyway? 

A good question, and Daniel had the feeling that he was about to have the answer land on him with both feet. 

 //How dare you lay hands on me, dog?! I'll have you boiled alive for this outrage!//  The wild-eyed man advanced on them, his fists clenched, his face red with rage.  //Well?! I asked you a question, dog!//  

 //I am sorry, Master. I thought it was rhetorical.//  Damn, that 'master' hurt to say. Daniel knew he had to talk fast, or the man would make good his threat. Rome was not kind to rebellious slaves, not after three uprisings that had nearly taken down the state, if memory served.  //Master Claudius told us to wait here for him. I am Daniel of…Letopolis. This is Samantha. She's my sister.//  He hoped the family tie would be enough to excuse his actions. Bowing his head, he noted Sam copying his actions and he blessed her mentally.

 //Oh.//  As quickly as the storm had struck, it was over.  //Your sister. I see. Well, tell Uncle Claudius his nephew, Caligula, was here to see him, will you, and, for goodness' sake, get a bath, the pair of you.//  His tone was conversational now, pleasant and cheerful.  //Now, that's an order. You're both very grubby. Get to the bathing chambers and have a good soak before Uncle Claudius comes back. I'll tell him where you are if he asks.//  Placing a hand on Daniel's head, then Sam's, he wafted from the room.

 What the hell was *that *?  Sam asked, a bit breathless.

Daniel ran fingers through his hair, rubbing his scalp furiously to get rid of the feel of the man's cold hand on head.  That was Claudius' crazy nephew, Caligula. I'm so glad we're leaving soon. You're my sister, by the way, if anyone asks. From Letopolis. 

 Okay.  Sam looked a little shaken still, but unwilling to let the potential forced intimacy of the past few minutes shake her up.  What was he saying about baths? 

 You understood that?  Daniel was impressed. He moved over to Sam's bed and twitched the linen sheets back into place, to have something to do.  I didn't think you knew much Latin, Major-Doctor.  The use of her titles, he hoped, would help ground her, keep her within their shared reality of SG-1. She needed to remember, to be reminded that she was Major Samantha Carter of the US Air Force. Of them all, she had the most to lose, in the way of control of self. Free women were not treated well in ancient Rome, much less female slaves.

 I don't, or rather I didn't. Claudius was teaching me last night. Baths?  She nudged him in the ribs, a tiny smile playing around her eyes. Good.

 Follow me, Major-Doctor. I know the way. 

The baths had been deserted in the late morning, and they were able to bathe in privacy and return to Claudius' rooms undetected.  Much better.  Sam sighed and stretched out on the bed, letting the warm sun dry her hair.  Think our host will be back soon? 

 Hope so. It's only a matter of time before someone comes looking for us. Sam, are you okay?  He sat on the bed next to her, not looking at her, but near enough to feel every breath.

This was the first time since they had recovered consciousness from the battle in the farmhouse that Daniel had a chance to talk to anyone. He had seen through the crowds when Jack had been dragged to the block, struggling all the way, stripped down, and sold. 

Then it had been his turn. He did not want to remember that just now.

He'd been led away before Sam's turn had come with the women's lot. It had been such a relief to see her, alive and relatively unharmed, cutting up turnips in the kitchen.

 I'm okay, Daniel. Just got my dignity a little bruised.  She brushed her hand over the livid bruise on her cheek, and smiled shakily.  I,  she paused, uncertain,  I saw you and the colonel. I'm so sorry, Daniel.  She reached out a hand and placed it, warm, on his back.  I'd have given anything to stop what happened to you. To you both.  

The crowd stretched before him, a multicolored, jeering blur. Cold iron clamped around his wrists, holding his arms behind him, and tethered to a ring on the ground. Efficient, practiced hands stripped him of the plain tunica and loincloth he had been given to wear and washed him down with cold water and harsh soap. Hard hands, tugging him this way and that, examining him, lifting his lip to see his teeth. //What skills?// And a placard, the word 'scriba' written in chalk, hung around his neck. Pushed to the platform, more hard hands, dead eyes looking him over. Bidding. Laughter at his blushes.

He shuddered.  Really wanted my sidearm right then. Or one of Jack's famous last-minute rescues.  He quirked a tiny smile.  For all of us. 

 Yeah, him riding in out of the sunset, Teal'c at his side.  She cut herself off. 

Daniel turned and took her hand.  He might be all right, Sam. We don't know he's dead. Junior…. 

 Yeah. I know.  Daniel knew the image her mind's eye was conjuring, because his was doing the same: Teal'c, lying sprawled in a pool of dark blood. The dark wound was too near Junior's pouch, and the pool kept spreading.  We need to get out of here, Daniel.  

She stood up abruptly and began to pace angrily.  I can't believe this, anyway. Where the hell are we, Rome? Ancient Rome? How the hell did we get here, Daniel? I mean, one minute we're coming through the Stargate on PX2-373, then we're in the woods, with no gear, in the middle of nowhere. I mean,  she paused in her pacing, her short hair standing up in spikes from her fingers running through it. With a glare at the door, she flung herself into a chair, sprawled with her elbows on her knees.  How are we getting home, Daniel?  Her blue eyes were wide and swimming with emotion.

Daniel stood and moved behind her, rubbing her shoulders with strong fingers. The hard muscles of her shoulders tensed, then relaxed as he kneaded them.  We're not in Ancient Rome, Sam. We're not even on Earth. I finished translating the scroll while you were taking your turn in the bath.  She twisted under his hands and looked up at him.  Have you ever been to Colonial Williamsburg, Sam?  

Comprehension lit her eyes.  Of course! But, where are the, I don't know, the patrons. 

 I have no idea. Maybe we're the patrons. The slaves, the people on the street. An interactive historical drama of some kind.  Daniel picked up the scroll and held it close to his eyes, bringing the strange script into focus.  This says, in essence, 'Welcome to Rome, we hope you enjoy your stay.' 

 You're kidding. 

Daniel shook his head.  I'm not. It also describes where the exit is. We need to get to a place called Ponza. I'm sure Claudius has a map or something around here.  He rubbed his tired eyes and rolled up the scroll again.  I really wish I had my glasses,  he said.

 How bad are your eyes, really, Daniel?  Sam asked in concern.  I've seen you function without corrective lenses before and you've never had this kind of trouble. I always thought they were just, you know, for reading. 

Daniel shook his head.  You've seen me in contacts, Sam, never without some kind of visual correction. I'm pretty myopic. The first day without glasses wasn't too bad, but the more tired my eyes get the blurrier everything is. I can still read, though, if I hold things close enough.  He sat on the bed again and lay back, shutting his eyes.  This is the longest I've been without them since I was a kid. It's…weird. Everything is out of focus, and the brighter the light the worse it gets. My head is killing me.  Okay, he thought, enough with the pity party.  I'm going to take a nap until Claudius gets back. Wake me if anyone comes in, Sam. Especially if Caligula comes back. You shouldn't be alone here. 

 I can take care of myself, Daniel. I'm a soldier.  Her voice was miffed. 

He opened one eye and looked over at her. Arms crossed, chin up, and he'd bet her expression was an imitation of Jack at his most mulish.  And a damn good one. But you don't have to fight every battle alone. I can help, at least with the translating. All right? 

She sat for a moment, then uncrossed her arms and leaned on the table.  All right, Daniel. I'll wake you. Get some sleep, now.  Her voice sounded sad, defeated.

He sat up again.  You okay? 

She nodded.  I'm just worried about the Colonel. Who's translating for him? You know how he is. He's going to get himself in so much trouble. I wish Claudius would get back. 

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The long afternoon was wearily dragging on toward evening. O'Neill felt as if lead weights had been tied to his feet and he'd been forced to do an endurance march with a full field pack. The cane fell with more frequency as he slowed his steps, tracing fire across his calves and lower back and sending his temper into orbit. Barely, just barely, he stopped himself from grabbing the instrument and shoving it somewhere inappropriate, but immensely satisfying. Capitalizing on his captor's lack of English fluency, he told them so. Repeatedly. With gestures.

Of course, that only made matters worse. The shift had changed twice more; Jack remained chained to the ceiling. He'd been given water at noon, but nothing to eat. The gap-toothed bastard with the cane had thought it the height of comedy to pretend to release the collar, then walk out of the building altogether. Jack had heard the rest of the workers at their noon meal, and started working on the collar himself.

Unfortunately, the lock, while primitive, was strong and well made. He had managed to climb half way up the chain to examine where it was fastened in the ceiling before the worker's break was over and he was discovered.

 Non militaris. Marmoset nos! Concidere, marmoset.  The guard made coaxing noises and gestures, as if calling a cat out of a tree. Deciding to climb down before they took more drastic measures than coaxing, Jack came down again. The guard petted his grizzled hair, smiling and nodding.  Bene marmoset.  Jack snatched his head away and moved as far from the man as the chain would allow, glaring. Then more grapes were brought in and the march began again. 

The world became the room. The steady raising and lowering of his legs in the mass of purple grapes, the smell of ripe and over ripe fruit, the buzz of flies and bees hovering over the discarded pulp, the occasional shout and blow to break the monotony. Fatigue was a constant now, and Jack watched the shadows as the sun moved, counting the minutes until night and rest. 

The air turned golden, then red as dusk fell. The shadows grew darker, until the light was really too dim to see much at all. Finally, the guard called out,  Desistere!  The call was echoed through the work camp and the weary slaves came to an end of their labors for the day. Jack slumped at the end of his chain, waiting to be released. During the long day he had worked out his escape plan and, despite his fatigue, was ready to get the hell out of this place and try to find Daniel and Sam.

His two co-workers were freed and pushed, stumbling with weariness, out of the room. Buckets of water were thrown over the grape pressing stone he stood on, sluicing off seeds, stems and bits of peel, flowing over his sore feet in a warm wave. Then, the last worker was gone, closing the door after him. 

 Hey! Did you forget something?  Jack yelled, tugging at his chain angrily.  For crying out loud! My feet are about to fall off, here! Hey!  There was no response, no answering call.  Great,  he muttered.  I have got to learn not to antagonize the bad guys. 

The chain was too short to allow him to sit, much less lay down. After a day of almost constant motion, his legs felt like the bones had been replaced by undercooked fettucini. His feet were raw and sore; shifting his weight from one to the other helped a little, but not much. His bad knee felt swollen and tight and the spots where the cane had struck were hot and painful. 

 Okay, so, no escape tonight,  he said softly.  Tomorrow. If I can still move by then. 

The only window was high up on the wall. Jack craned his neck against the rubbing of the collar to see if the moon was up yet. That was the only way he could think to mark time. A silvery glow heralded the moonrise and O'Neill kept his eyes glued to the silver sphere as it crept slowly over the windowsill. 

An old memory niggled at his mind. The moon in another window, marking time minute to minute as the night crept slowly by and the desert cold crept slowly in. He had spent hours looking at the moon, having nothing else at which to look. Mapping its contours had become a challenge and a discipline. He had dreaded the few days a month when the moon was new. 

This moon was full and bright. Old habits kicked in and he ceased to feel the pain in his legs and his back as his mind went to the moon. He looked for old friends, landmarks he had memorized as a child, but found none of them.  What the hell? Where's Mara Imbrium? Where's the Lunar Appennines?  Kicking himself to alertness with a rattle and a clink, he straightened and really looked at the moon.  Where's anything?! That's not our moon.  The constellations, what he could see of them, were different as well.  Where the hell am I then?  

Behind him, startling him out of his contemplation, the door creaked open. He turned quickly and stumbled on one of the ruts in the stone. But for the chain, he would have fallen. As it was, he choked and coughed as he regained his unsteady footing. An oil lamp cast guttering shadows over the room, hiding the identity of its bearer rather than illuminating. Jack squinted against the soft light and identified  his  guard.  What the hell do you want, asshole? 

The man grinned and hopped up on the stone, setting down his lamp. He walked over to Jack quickly, the reek of wine and garlic making the older man gag. He tried to back away but the chain at his neck confounded him again, holding him within arms reach of the guard.  Shhhh. Quiete, miles militis.  Grimy hands reached out to him and the lamp lit a leer in the younger man's eyes.

 Hey, you're not my type. Back off!  He was pretty sure that resisting would mean something more than a few taps with that damn cane. Hoping that playing hard to get would be enough, he crossed his arms and bared his teeth.  I'm not interested, Colgate-boy.  The man stepped closer, reaching out to touch Jack's hair again and pressing his body tightly against him, laughing drunkenly. He groped for Jack's loincloth, tugging the end free and attempting to pull it off all together.  Goddamn it, let me alone!  Then a harder tug and he was naked in the dark.

Hands, swift despite being slowed by drink, tied his wrists securely behind his back before he could recover his wits.  Mei militis, speciosus.  Jack gritted his teeth and tugged at the cloth, trying to free himself as the guard's clammy hands roamed everywhere. Callused fingers stroked his scrotum and he yelped, more than a little panicked at the way things were progressing

 Okay. Enough!  Drawing back, Jack wrenched himself away and kicked out at the man. A short shriek cut off abruptly, and Jack was alone on the platform.  I said I'm not that kind of boy,  he said smugly. He looked over the side of the platform and saw in the dim light the sprawled body to the gap-toothed guard. He wasn't moving and his head lay at a very unhealthy angle.  Well, hell. That's gonna make me Mr. Popular. 

He tried calling for help, but no one came. He tried to loosen the restraint on his wrists, but it was tied very well. As the night wore on, he even tried prayer, but no one was listening.

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Sam woke from a dreamless sleep to the sound of the chamber door opening. Claudius limped into the room quickly and shut the door before she could stand or speak. He looked happy and excited, words tumbling and tripping from his mouth in a hiccupping fountain. 

She grinned and put a hand on his arm.  Slow down. I don't understand. 

Shaking his head with a twitch and a grimace, Claudius pointed to himself.  I f-find Jack. 

 You found the Colonel?  Sam stammered in relief. She surged up out of the hard chair and caught Claudius in an enthusiastic hug.  Where is he? How is he? Is he okay? When do we leave?  

Claudius looked from her to Daniel's sleeping form and pointed at him.  Wake. Talk. Fast talk S-S-Sam you. 

 Oh, right, sorry.  She reached out and shook Daniel awake.  Claudius is back. He says he found the Colonel. 

 Yes!  He rolled to his feet and grasped Claudius by the arms, questioning him in rapid Latin. Claudius answered and sat at the table, reaching for a bit of fruit from last night's tray.  He says Jack was taken to work in a vineyard a little to the south of here by a man named Callas. We're leaving tonight. The cart is being readied now. 

 About time. Let's go.  

Holding up a stilling hand, Claudius spoke again. His stammer was a bit worse but Sam caught the words  slave   head  and  quiet.  The older man looked very uncomfortable, but determined.

 You're right.  Daniel nodded.  He's right, Sam. Once we leave these rooms, we have to behave like, well, like slaves again. Eyes down, subservient, all that BS, at least until we get out of the city. Otherwise we'll draw attention to ourselves and might make trouble for Claudius after we're gone. 

Nodding, Sam said,  I understand. I hate it, but I understand. But if that asshole comes near me again, I'm going to break his arm. 

 Asshole?  Claudius was confused. 

Daniel translated the meaning, if not the content. Claudius looked over at Sam with concern.  You o-okay, Sam?  he asked.  Caligula bad…  he looked up at Daniel and asked,  malevolens? 

 Bad man. Jerk. Asshole. 

Claudius smiled ruefully.  Bene. Caligula is jerk.  He patted Sam's arm comfortingly and finished his fruit. 

A messenger came to the door.  Cart's ready,  Daniel murmured.  Time to go. Oh, nearly forgot. Map.  He whispered a quiet consultation in the Roman's ear, who scrambled amidst his scrolls and selected two, tucking them into the bag he had packed earlier. 

They followed Claudius out of the room that had been their haven. The stone halls of the inner chambers gave way to the lavishly decorated outer halls and rooms. They met only palace staff, scurrying to finish for the day. Laughter and the appetizing smells let them know that the evening meal was being served. No one but the slaves walked the halls, and no one stopped to question them.

The cart awaited them in the stable yard. Daniel assisted Claudius into the back of it, settling him onto comfortable cushions like a loyal servant. Sam climbed on after as Daniel clambered into the driver's seat and took the reigns. Sotto voce, she asked,  You know how to drive one of these things, Daniel? 

 In principle.  He snapped the traces along the back of the black mare and clicked his tongue. Sam sat at the back of the cart, her feet dangling inches from the cobbled roadway, and held on tightly as the cart jostled and lurched over the uneven stones. Palatine Hill surrounded them, the buildings of the imperial family a cluster of marble and gilt growing rosy in the setting sunlight. 

Claudius spoke from time to time, guiding Daniel through the winding streets. She drew her feet into the cart and scooted back, leaning on the wooden side. A pillow landed in her lap and she looked up into Claudius' smiling face.  Thanks. 

 You're w-welcome. 

She made herself more comfortable and watched as the city came into view at last.  We're on the Via Appia, now, if this is a faithful reconstruction of the city. That big wall to your right is the outside of the Circus Maximus,  Daniel said.  This road will take us almost straight south. All the way to Terracina. 

Fascinated despite herself, Sam drank in the sights as they passed slowly along the endless busy streets.  This is an amazing piece of work, if it's all a reconstruction. It even smells the way an ancient city should smell. Have you asked Claudius about that, by the way? 

 You mean if he knows about what's really happening here? No. I'm not sure I want to know the answer. 

Claudius looked from one to the other, catching his name. He questioned Daniel, who replied shortly and not very satisfyingly by the look on Claudius' face. He glared at the back of Daniel's head and crossed his arms.

Sam put a placating hand on Claudius' knee. He looked down at her in surprise, then smiled at her kindly and patted her hand.  What did you say, Daniel?  

 Later, Sam. I told him the same thing. We'll talk once we get out of the city, okay?  Daniel spoke to Claudius again, who relaxed a bit and nodded.  We're approaching the outer gate now. Try to look, well, slavey. 

The guards at the gate nodded them through, recognizing the imperial markings on the cart, and then they were outside the wall and in the suburbs. A few more minutes' travel had them outside the city altogether, although houses lined the way for many more miles.

Their shadows grew longer to the side of the road. The creak of the harness and the chirruping of night insects were the loudest sounds in the growing dark. For a few miles outside the city, the way had been lit by baskets of fire. They had passed a runner a mile back, moving from one basket to the other and adding wood. Now, though, the only thing lighting the way was the rising moon. Luckily, it was full and bright and their way was easy and straight. 

 We should be there by tomorrow, midmorning, according to Claudius. Why don't you get some sleep,  Daniel suggested.  I'll wake you in a few hours and you can drive. 

The back of the cart was cramped, but well padded with cushions and bags. She curled up on a small pile of colorfully embroidered pillows and looked up at the strange stars. A cool breeze made her shiver. Claudius noticed and pulled a warm blanket from one of the bags, covering her with it. He eased off of the padded bench to recline next to her, looking up at the sky. 

Pointing to a cluster of stars, he said,  Lepus.  He held up two fingers and hopped them up and down. 

 Rabbit? I can see that.  A cluster of stars low on the horizon drew her attention.  What are those, those seven stars together there. 

Claudius looked up, then smiled and nodded,  Nos Septum F-frater. 

 The seven brothers. We have a constellation called the Seven Sisters back home, but they don't look like that.  The older man smiled and shook his head, not understanding. Daniel translated softly. Claudius craned his neck and asked Daniel a question. They spoke back and forth for a moment or two, and then Claudius relaxed back onto the cushions.

 What was that about? 

 He wanted to know what we were talking about earlier, about this world. I explained that we were from another planet and that part of our history resembled this place. He doesn't appear to know anything about it, though. I think he thinks he really is who he is, or thinks he is. And I fully realize that sentence made very little sense. 

Sam said dryly,  Oddly enough, I understood what you just said. Do you think he's a clone or something? Or something like those 'bots of Harlaan's?  She still had the occasional nightmare of her other self, trapped on Harlaan's doomed world after being made 'better.' 

Daniel shrugged.  We've seen no evidence of that level of technology. The cloning thing is possible, I guess. I really don't care that much as long as we get out of here soon. 

The miles passed quietly for a time. Claudius and Sam started exchanging words again, naming the cart, the horse, the road and anything else they could see. It was like a bilingual game of I, Spy. 

Daniel smiled to himself, remembering playing a similar game with his mother, learning English and Arabic simultaneously. He had actually been more fluent in the second language than the first, being immersed in it practically from infancy, and had struggled to learn the English his mother had insisted he use in camp. The game had developed from that. From her love of learning had come his love of language and linguistics, a passion that few of his foster parents had ever understood. 

Now, listening to the Latin and English drifting up from the back of the wagon, Daniel remembered hot Egyptian days and a dark-haired woman pointing to a pile of fruit on a rug in the marketplace.  Figs, Mama,  he murmured. The wagon creaked on into the night, accompanied by the gold glint of fireflies dancing among the trees along side the road.

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Night fell. The pain was becoming bearable at last. A few hours of quiet meditation had set the healing on its path. Soon, he would stop for the night and spend it in kel-no-reem. The morning would see him fully restored and ready to do battle once again.

The moon rose high overhead, lighting his path and turning the rolling hills silver and gray. A cool breeze lifted the hem of his cloak, setting the closely woven cloth flapping. 

A fellow traveler had told him of an inn along this road, and now he could see the flicker of torches in the distant dark. 

Rome was another day away, unless he could find faster conveyance. He had seen, much earlier in the day, a man being carried on the backs of four other men. Apophis had used such a litter before, but rarely. The workers in the fields he had passed were also slaves, he knew. 

It was in his heart to free these people, but he did not know how. He would meditate upon that as well, when the time came. First he had to free O'Neill, DanielJackson and Major Carter, if they were indeed enslaved. Then they would free rest of this world. 

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

Morning found Jack exhausted and nodding, almost choking himself repeatedly 

as he passed in and out of a light slumber. Then the doors opened and the shouting began.

His collar was released and Jack was pushed down off of the platform. He landed in a heap, unable to catch himself, and was pulled roughly to his feet again. Shouted questions battered his ears, but he did not understand and was too damn tired to try very hard. He stumbled into the bright, quiet morning and was shoved across the hard packed dirt to where the overseer, an ugly, red-faced, bantam of a man, was standing. Off balance with fatigue and because his arms were still tightly bound, he was pushed to the ground at the man's feet. He landed in a sprawl and lay there, enjoying the momentary rest, while more shouting and gesturing went on over his head.

The corpse was brought out. The overseer grabbed a handful of Jack's hair and pulled him up to kneel. The overseer shouted a question, pointing at the corpse.

 Yeah, yeah. It was an accident. I'm very sorry. Can we get this over with? 

Apparently the overseer took Jack's tired nod for a confession. His pinched face grew red. He shouted unintelligibly at Jack, pointing and gesturing. Translating under his breath, Jack said,  You'll pay for this. You're a bad bad man. Yadda yadda yadda.  Wrenching at his hands for the umpteenth time, he rolled his aching shoulders and settled his butt back on his heels to wait for the man to wind down. Damn, he was thirsty. He licked his cracked lips and swallowed. 

Looking around, he noticed that he was the only non-guard out and about this morning. The table was set up for breakfast, but he compound was quiet and deserted, except for the guards and the overseer. Probably didn't want the pickers to get any ideas, he decided. 

It did not take long for the bantam to realize Jack had not the slightest idea nor interest in what he was saying. He motioned two men forward and Jack was hauled to his feet and they untied his arms at last. His hands were throbbing, his shoulders on fire as he eased them forward with a grimace. Someone shoved the loincloth into his hands, but he dropped it. He caught the fabric the second time and tied it clumsily around his waist. Once he was done, he was dragged over to the tree and pushed to sit beneath it, which was fine with him. It was shady under that tree, and almost cool. Very restful. He leaned his head back on the rough bark and closed his eyes.

He had almost succeeded in falling asleep when he was pulled to his feet again.  What now?  he asked in irritation. A litter was being carried up the hill on the backs of four large men.  Now who could this be? 

 Tace, canis!  A hard shove sent Jack to his sore knees as the litter crested the hill.

 I'm getting really tired of getting shoved around, here. Couldn't you just, I don't know, point and grunt?  The guard raised a hand threateningly and Jack subsided.

A well-dressed man emerged from the litter. He wore a long, white tunica with green stripes and was draped by a length of green cloth, caught at one shoulder. The overseer approached him, bowed, and pointed at Jack. They spoke for a few moments, looking back at him from time to time with grim expressions. Jack drew himself up to a kneeling parade rest and focused on the distant hills. It was really kind of pretty here, he mused. Very green. The air smelled good, like Minnesota but without the mosquitoes.

The man climbed back into his litter without another glance in Jack's direction and he was carried back down the hill. The conference was finally over, by the looks of things. The overseer walked back to Jack. He put his hands on his hips and glared down at the kneeling Colonel. Speaking very slowly, he said,  Nil mortus tu. Scia? Plecta mia tu. Carus para dominus.  He rubbed his fingers together in a universal gesture of coins being rubbed together.

 Nil mortus… You're not gonna kill me? Oh, good.  Jack nodded to show he understood at least part of what the man had said.  Just don't make an example out of me. I hate that. 

Content that Jack understood him, the overseer called to another guard.  Adde furca.  The guard grinned nastily and ran to the main tent. He returned minutes later carrying a large wooden contraption shaped like a letter  A. 

 Example time, huh?  He looked from the grinning man holding the wooden thing to the overseer and grimaced.  I'm supposed to do what, exactly, with that?  He wiped a trickle of sweat from his eyes, then looked around at the ring of armed men surrounding the open yard of the camp. Not great odds. The overseer motioned him to rise.

Jack hauled himself in stages to his sore feet, resting half way with his hands on his knees. It was now or never.

Taking aim at the most bored looking guard, Jack was off like his namesake, his bare feet pounding the dirt and kicking up dust as he went. It took a moment for them to react, and by the time they did Jack was through the guards and racing for the tree line. The work camp was on top of a low hill, with the vineyards surrounding it on all sides. Beyond the fields, groves of olive trees stretched over more hills into the distance. Beyond reaching them, Jack had really not planned, hoping to reach some kind of town or village where he could steal some clothes and start looking for his kids.

Of course, the original plan was to do this in the dead of night. Not in broad, way too bright daylight with every guard and overseer in the place on his heels as he hoofed it. He berated himself mentally, but did not spare the breath for anything but running.

Then he was falling, his legs tangled and useless in some sort of weighted rope. He fell head over heels, tumbling painfully as his momentum carried him forward until he rolled to a jarring stop against the trunk of the first of the olive trees.  So close,  he muttered. Then he was surrounded again by angry-faced guards and hauled to his knees and held there.

They had brought that  A  thing with them.  Oh, wonderful. Well, you know,  he panted, looking up at the circle of faces,  screw you guys. You're not putting that thing on me.  He crossed his arms and glared at them defiantly. This seemed to amuse them, all but one man who looked way too much like Colgate-boy to be anything but a blood relative. That one just stared at Jack, his dark eyes cold, and backhanded the kneeling man into the dirt.

 Furca. Custodia agere.  His voice was as cold as his eyes. None to gently, Jack was hauled to his knees again, and held there. The apex of the A was forced over his head, the heavy beams pressing painfully on his sunburned shoulders. Then they secured his hands to the legs of the thing, their numbers making his struggles a mockery. A collar, inset into the furca, made certain he could not slip it off over his head.

When they were done, Colgate-boy's brother crouched before Jack, wrenching the wooden framework to bring Jack face to face with him. He pointed to himself and said,  Hastatus. Iteras. 

Jack shook his head tiredly.  I don't understand. 

The man pointed to himself again, shaking the furca once, roughly.  Hastatus. Iteras. 

 For crying out loud! Hastatus, already! 

The man, Hastatus, grinned.  Bene.  He pointed to Jack and said,  Canis. Iteras. 

The translation filtered through Jack's tired mind. Canis. Dog.  Go to hell. My name is Colonel Jack O'Neill, United States Air Force. 

Something of his tone must have filtered through, even though the meaning was lost. Smiling coldly, Hastatus grasped the furca and pulled sharply downward, forcing the legs of the thing to the dirt and dragging Jack along with it. Unable to catch himself, Jack's throat landed hard on the crosshatch, choking him. Hastatus bent down and hissed in his ear,  Canis. Iteras. 

Coughing, Jack struggled to draw a breath. He was bent, half-sprawling, with his upper body held up by the furca and the whole weight of it was on his throat. Hastatus leaned on the frame, holding it down as Jack struggled, his feet kicking as he tried to kneel up and breathe again.  Colonel J-Jack O'Ne…  he gasped. Then his world went gray around the edges. Then it went away altogether.

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

Claudius woke up abruptly, jolted out of sleep by the a particularly jarring bounce. He looked up and saw that the young man was asleep. The reins were slack in his hands and the cart was rolling along with one wheel on the road and the other in the dirt. The mare was grazing happily on the verge, and moving farther off the road with every step.  //Daniel. W-wake up.//  He clambered over the back of the seat and took the reins guiding the horse back onto the road with a lurch.

The young man woke with a jerk, blinking furiously in the bright daylight.  Huh..what…?  He looked at Claudius in confusion, then rubbed his hands briskly over his face.  //Sorry. Must have dozed off.//  He reached for the reins again, but Claudius held on to them.

 //Get some sleep, my friend. You've been dr-driving all night. I can manage for a bit. We're a couple of hours from the vineyard. There's an inn, The D-Drunken Carter, I think it's called, just before the r-road that leads there, if I recall correctly. We'll rest the horse, get some provisions, and then see about freeing your C-C-Colonel, all right?// 

Looking back at his sleeping friend, Daniel said,  //But what if someone sees? Won't it look suspicious, you driving while your sl…// 

 Wait.  Claudius held up a hand. Daniel subsided, looking puzzled. Reining the horse to a stop, Claudius dipped his hand in his pouch and pulled out a coin. He handed it to Daniel.  //That's for your l-loyal service to me and m-m-my family. Now give it to me.// 

Daniel handed it back, comprehension beginning to dawn.

 //Good. You've just bought freedom for yourself and your 'sister.'//  He pocketed the coin again and clucked the mare into motion once more.  //Now g-get some sleep.// 

He could tell the young man was pleased; his eyes were smiling as he climbed into the back of the cart. Claudius only hoped Grandmother Livia wouldn't be too angry when he came back without them at the end of this little adventure. Of course, she rarely had any patience for him on the best of days. She would probably just call him an idiot and stalk out of the room. Well, he thought, I can live with that. It would not be the first time.

 //The Drunken Carter, huh? Sam will love that,//  Daniel said sleepily. Claudius smiled to himself. He was enjoying the company of these two young people very much. It was very refreshing to be able to speak with someone and not be interrupted with the end of your sentence.

At length, topping yet another hill, he saw the inn. The large villa rustica was nestled into the trees at the valley floor, half of the bulk of it hidden by the tall laurels. A stream babbled by it pleasantly, and he heard the distant clang of metal on metal. That, and the column of white smoke rising up from an outbuilding, told him that a blacksmith had set up shop near the inn. He was glad of this; the boy's off-road driving had loosened one of the wheels of the cart. A good blacksmith could set that aright quickly.

He pulled the cart to a stop in the inn's stable-yard, a large open area of clean sand and straw. The inn formed one wall of the yard, and the open stables formed the other two. There were few horses in the stables, most of the travelers having moved on already. A bay gelding stamped in one of the airy stalls and chickens scratched in the sandy yard, squawking riotously as they rolled to a stop.

A young girl, no more than ten or eleven years old, scampered out of the inn and took the mare's halter.  //Good morning, honored guests!//  The child was tiny next to the black mare, but she held the halter confidently as Claudius shook his charges awake and they clambered out of the cart.  //Breakfast is over, but Pater is sure to have something for you to eat, if you're hungry.// 

 //Th-thank you, child. Is the s-smith busy, today? Our c-c-cart is in n-need of some repair.// 

Daniel looked alarmed at this.  //Repair? What's wrong with it?//  He bent to examine the framework, calling Sam over to look as well.

 //It's all right. Just a b-bit of a loose wheel. Nothing that c-c-can't be fixed.//  The stable girl was looking at him curiously; his head twitched abruptly and she jumped, startled.

Claudius grimaced, then smiled kindly at the girl. She was just a commoner, he reminded himself, and quite ignorant. Such reactions shouldn't hurt anymore; he'd been getting them most of his life.  //The smith?//  He prompted gently.

The girl pointed, then busied herself unhitching the mare and brushing her down.  //T-thank you, child.//  He handed the girl a sestertius, then limped toward the sound of clanging metal, Daniel and Sam trailing behind him.

They were speaking in their language, English, as Sam had called it, and he caught a few words, but not the meaning. Sam sounded worried, urgent. Daniel sounded like he was trying to calm her down. Taking a guess at what they were talking about, he spoke over his shoulder as he walked,  //We will only be here a short while. Then we go on to your friend. Tell Sam we are v-very close.//"

 //You understood us? That's…you're a quick study. English isn't an easy language to learn.//  Daniel spoke quickly to Sam, translating what they were saying, Claudius supposed.

Rounding a corner, they found themselves in the smith's courtyard. A barn-like structure stood at one end, its doors open wide. The clanging came from inside; they followed the sound, meeting a wall of heat and noise as they entered.

The smith was a huge man, broad shouldered and ruddy from the heat of his forge. His equally large assistant worked the bellows, stoking the coals as the smith held a rod of metal in the fire. He brought it out, red-hot and sparking, and set it on the anvil. Looking up briefly, he noted the three people in his smithy and grunted at his assistant, gesturing toward them with a toss of his head. He brought his hammer down with a sharp blow that sent sparks flying.

The younger man, an apprentice, Claudius assumed, approached them.  //Yes?// 

 //We are h-having a problem with our cart,//  Claudius said.  //It has a loose wheel. Can your m-m-master fix it?//  The boy motioned them back into the courtyard. Despite the heat of the day, it was noticeably cooler and much quieter outside.

 //My master,//  the boy said with a wry grimace,  //has enough work in commissions to last the rest of the week. Let me take a look at your cart; he usually leaves those things to me. I am Alvanus Artifex, apprentice to Creopacis. Lead the way.//  The young man pulled on a relatively clean shirt and gathered a few tools, leaning into the smithy to tell his master where he was going. A grunt and a clang were his reply. Alvanus smiled ruefully and motioned for Claudius to precede him.

The stable-girl was nowhere to be found, but the mare had been well tended. She had been rubbed down and given feed and clean water and the cart had been rolled to one side of the yard. Daniel wandered over to check on the horse as Sam and Alvanus hunkered down and examined the loose wheel.

Deciding to leave the apprentice to his work, Claudius followed Daniel. There was a question in his mind, and he was not quite certain how to ask it. The story the young man had told of other worlds had seemed so far fetched, yet the man clearly believed what he was saying. Which meant he was either mad, or everything Claudius had ever believed about his world was a lie. A fable to rival the tales of the gods. He had to know, to see for himself.

He picked up a stiff brush and ran it over the mare's flank, to have something to do. Daniel was leaning on a post, looking vaguely toward Sam and the large, blonde smith. His eyes were distant, though, as if he was looking at something no one else could.

 //What do you s-see, Daniel?//  Claudius asked hesitantly. That was not the question he had intended to ask, but for a moment the boy had reminded him of the Cybelle. He had the same look of otherworldliness as had the prophetess. The mare's shining coat glided smoothly under Claudius' strong hands as he brushed the black expanse.

Looking back at Claudius, then down at the ground, Daniel flicked a quick, nervous smile.  //Not much. It's too bright. I can hear Sam over there somewhere,//  he gestured toward the cart, then rubbed his eyes.  //I'm okay. What's the plan now?//  He turned into the dim shade of the stable, his tense face relaxing somewhat in the softer light.  //Do you know this Callas?//  The spell was broken. He would wait until another time to ask his question.

 //Only by reputation. He makes ve-very good wine. I know nothing about the man personally.//  He put the brush down and patted the horse's flank, scratching her behind the ears. The mare leaned into his touch and he scratched a little harder.  //I had planned to buy your friend back. Th-th-that s-seemed easiest.// 

Daniel shook his head.  //Knowing Jack, he hasn't endeared himself to his owners. That may work in our favor, though. Maybe they'll be anxious to get rid of him.// 

A happy exclamation from Sam caught their attention. Claudius saw her slap the bemused apprentice on the shoulder, a huge grin on her face. He limped over to the pair, Daniel following.  //Is it fixed, already?// 

 //He lift, kick.//  Sam said, in her fractured Latin. She gestured to the wheel.

 //It's a knack,//  the youth said modestly.  //There was not that much wrong with it; I didn't even have to use my tools.// 

They settled on a fee of three denarii, with one more as a tip, and the young man went back to his labors.  //Get Colonel now?//  Sam asked. Her Latin was improving, really, Claudius reflected.

 We eat n-now.  Claudius answered her in English.  No you eat y-yesterday since. Fruit! 

Sam broke into startled laughter.  //Okay, okay. We eat now. Then get Jack.// 

The innkeeper had set up tables and benches in the foreyard. The portly man introduced himself as Horace  Not the poet  Hospes, and set down trays of bread, cheese, and fresh fruits before his guests. It was not time yet for the new wine, so they had to make due with an older, but quite palatable, vintage. Sam and Daniel drank sparingly, adding more water than wine, and seemed to enjoy it. There were a few other guests at the tables, but not many. The morning meal was past; the noon meal was yet to be served. Those who were at table were either late risers or travelers who stopped on their way, as Claudius and his charges had done.

Nibbling on a wedge of pale Romano cheese, Sam turned to watch the other patrons.  //She is very c-c-curious, is she nnot?//  Claudius turned to ask Daniel.  //Every time I look at her she is finding things out, exploring. She's so different from the other women I know.// 

Daniel swallowed his bread and nodded.  //I'm not surprised. She's a very accomplished scientist, and a scholar.//  Sam turned to look at the two men, realizing they were talking about her.  //She is also very observant.// 

The woman looked from one man to the other.  What?  She put down her cheese and threw a grape at Daniel.  //Stop talking around me. Latin good speak, now.// 

Claudius couldn't help himself. He burst into laughter, loud, belly laughter that shook the table and threatened to spill the wine. Daniel and Sam just stared at him, which made him laugh harder.  //L-Latin good s-s-s-s-speak? Oh my merciful heavens!//  He wiped his eyes, trying to contain himself, but couldn't stop.  //Wine…give me wine…//  he hiccupped. Sam pressed the cup into his hand and he took a gulp, then another.

 //You okay, Claudius?//  She asked, a smile playing around her lips.  //Funny I not am, usually.// 

Of course, this set him off again. Even Daniel was starting to look amused.

A shadow fell across the table, accompanied by the smell of sweat and cinders.  //Who do you think you are, trying to cheat me!//  A harsh voice bellowed. The smith, Creopacis, stood over the group, his huge fists on his hips. Claudius hiccupped to a stop, blinking up at the man.

 //Ch-ch-cheat you?//  Damn the stammer. It was always worse when someone was trying to intimidate him, whether he willed it so or no. A helpful disability, dealing with the internecine dramas of the imperial family; safer to act the fool than be taken for wise, especially since Tiberius had become Emperor. It was not terribly useful, otherwise, and Claudius had often wished himself rid of it.  //We p-p-p-…// 

 //Paid my apprentice far too little for the job?//  The man smiled nastily.  //Yes, I know. The fee is seven denarii, you stammering fool, not three. Now pay me, or I'll put your little cart back the way it was, and then some.// 

Daniel stood up and stepped between the smith and Claudius.  //There's no 

need to get hostile. We paid your apprentice what he asked. He said it 

was a simple job and…// 

Creopacis held up a hand.  //Enough. I do not deal with slaves, nor freedmen. I was speaking to your master, boy, if not your better.//  He shoved Daniel to one side and advanced on Claudius, anger in his small eyes.  //I'll have the money out of you one way or another, you limping freak.// 

 Hey!  Daniel placed a hand on the smith's arm.  //That's enough of that!// 

Without warning, the burly smith turned and hit the younger man in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. He lay still, in the dirt, blood leaking from a split lip.

 Daniel!  Sam looked from her fallen friend to the hulking blacksmith. She spit a stream of angry invective at him, which the man clearly did not understand. He grinned humorlessly down into her face as she stepped up to him.

 //Out of my way, girl. I'll deal with you in a few minutes.//  He reached out and, before she quite realized what his intent was, pinched her breast.

Claudius did not see exactly what happened, but there was a quick and violent scuffle. When the dust cleared the man was on the ground with Sam kneeling on his back. His arm was twisted up painfully behind him, and he was asking for her forgiveness in frightened and abject tones. She did not look too inclined to grant it.

 //Claudius, help Daniel, yes?//  She asked.

He was on his feet and lurching to the fallen man before she finished speaking. The scuffle had brought some of the inn's guests outside, along with the innkeeper. He looked over the scene and smiled with some satisfaction. Motioning for help, he went to where Daniel was measuring his length in the dirt.  //We'll carry him inside; my mother knows something of healing.// 

 //We apologize for the di-disturbance,//  Claudius began.

Horace shook his head.  //Creopacis is a bully. He's always been a bully. It's time someone bested him.//  He looked over to where Sam was kneeling on the man's back and chuckled.  //This story will be well worth the price of your meal, and your friend's healing. Let us bring him in. Tell your Amazon that she can let Creopacis up now. I do not think he will cause you further trouble.// 

 Teal'c!  Sam's glad shout startled both men. She sprang up from her captive and flew across the yard and into the arms of one of the patrons, a huge, dark-skinned Nubian, who had just emerged from the inn.

The dark man returned her embrace, and again they spoke in English for several moments. The man looked from Sam to Claudius, questioning, and then Sam motioned Claudius forward. They went into the inn together, Sam leading the way, to where Daniel had been taken.

As they arrived, an old woman was placing a compress on the unconscious man's head, murmuring to herself. Claudius could smell herbs, but did not know enough to identify which ones she was using in her poultice. Sam took Daniel's hand, looking down at him with concern, and asked Teal'c a question. Claudius missed the younger man's translations, feeling quite left out of the conversation.

To his surprise, the Nubian turned to him and said, in a deep voice,  //Major Carter asked where I have been. I have told her. I understand you have been the protector of Major Carter and Daniel Jackson. I thank you. I am Teal'c.//  His accent was stilted, but his Latin was very good. Not quite as good as a native speaker, but enough to serve.

 //I'm C-C-Claudius. Very nice to meet you. Is Daniel going to be all right?// 

The old woman answered.  //He's fine. Just a nasty knock. He'll be coming around soon. Now, all of you, get out of my….// 

 Sam?  Daniel's voice was weak.

She smiled down at him.  Hi, Daniel. 

Teal'c stepped up and said,  It is good to see you, DanielJackson. 

The young man's eyes opened wider, tracking from Sam to the Nubian.  Teal'c?  He broke into a startled grin, then winced as it jarred his head. He reached out and touched the man's arm, squinting up at him.  You're not dead. 

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

Vineyard

Sharp pain in the ribs. Duller pain to the neck, head, throat. Jack swallowed and coughed dryly, not really wanting to open his eyes, but the foot prodding his side insisted. "All right, enough. I'm awake." His voice sounded small and gravelly to his ears and his head was pounding like a kettledrum.

He lay on his side in an awkward sprawl, the furca holding him half propped, half pinned under its weight. Squinting against the sun's glare, he tried to roll to his feet, but the furca stole all leverage, unbalancing him. He fell back on the hard wood, wincing when the edges dug into his new collection of bruises.

The foot probed again, and then kicked, aiming at the darkening bruise where his ribs had collided with the olive tree at the end of his dash for freedom. Agony blossomed and Jack bit back a yell of pain and anger. Hastatus loomed over him, grinning, his breath every bit as fresh as his dead kinsman's. "Salute, Canis. Bene somnus?" Jack just glared, trying to catch his breath.

Hastatus drew his foot back again and Jack redoubled his attempts to move. The furca weighed heavily on his bare shoulders as Jack struggled to sit up. Finally, in a burst of impatience, Hastatus bent and hauled him up onto unsteady feet. Jack swallowed painfully; his throat felt bruised. Hell, his body felt bruised. He stood swaying, trying to find his center of balance, but his keeper had other priorities. With a rough shove that nearly sent Jack toppling again, they started the long walk back to camp.

"What did I say about the pushing thing?" Jack asked. Hastatus cuffed the back of his head in reply. Wincing, Jack said, "You really need to take some anger management classes, Hastatus ol' pal. Do something about your interpersonal relationship skills."

"Tace." There was a whistling sound, then a line of fire traced across Jack's back. He bit his lip, and shut up.

While he had been out, evidently, the slaves had been sent back to work. He was pushed, cuffed, and otherwise chivvied through the vineyard, moving through the ranks of chained men. "I really, really hate being an example," he muttered. Very few of the men would meet his eyes. They picked methodically, moving down a row at a time, their baskets slowly filling with large, ripe grapes, so purple they were almost black.

Jack hoped like hell that Daniel and Sam were not in a place like this. He tried not to think about them, concentrating instead on getting free himself so he could go after them. Despite himself, though, images kept popping into his tired mind. Danny with chains around his wrists, trying so hard to talk their way out, then turning pale and angry when Jack was brought to the block. Sam fastened together with a line of other women and led away, looking pissed and scared. Teal'c lying in a spreading pool of blood. Jack cursed under his breath. He had to get free. His team needed him.

Through the ache his body had become, Jack began to notice other, more ominous symptoms. His skin was dry and hot. He had not yet stopped sweating, so heat stroke was a way off, but dehydration was creeping up on him, stealing his acuity, his energy. He needed water, soon. Heat stroke was not something he wanted to experience again, especially with no handy IV cannulas or bags of Ringer's to help rehydrate him. No way to free yourself if your brain is fried and you dry up and blow away.

Knowing it was probably futile and that he would regret the next few moments, Jack stopped a few feet ahead of Hastatus and turned. "Look, I need water, or I'm gonna pass out. No more example for the other kiddies to play nice. Just boring, old unconscious Jack. Soon to be boring, old dead Jack. Your boss doesn't want that any more than I do."

"Tac…"

Jack waved his hands, then regretted it as ropes cut into his wrists. "Don't say tace. Aqua. I need aqua." He licked his cracked lips and waited for a response. "Aqua? Please? Por favor? Placate?"

The man looked dubiously at him, and then his face broke into a nasty smile. Jack rolled his eyes. "I hate it when they do that. Whatever you're thinking, don't. Just give me some water, goddamn it!"

"Aqua. Sitis tu?" Hastatus laughed, then took hold of the furca and began dragging Jack back to the camp on the hill. Pushing was apparently too slow going. "Obtinea aqua tu. Sequae, Canis."

Pulled at a stumbling trot, Jack followed behind Hastatus. They passed quickly through the camp and into the pressing building. Jack wiggled his fingers at the three men on the pressing platform as he was dragged through. "Hi, fellas. Having fun?" The men watched him pass with wide eyes, their endless march slowed until he had passed. He heard a whisper before being pulled into the next room: "Carnifex."

The inner room was cooler, being protected by thick walls. The cool stones felt wonderful against his feet. He leaned against the wall, sagging and bending at the waist, letting the furca drag him down for a moment and resting his back and arms. Damn thing was heavy. Then Jack heard water sloshing, and he licked his lips in anticipation.

Moments later, dirty, sandaled feet walked back into his line of vision. His keeper wrenched him back upright, grinning into his face. "Aqua." Then a rope was wrapped around his right hand and he was wrenched to that side by a heavy weight. Before he could recover, a second sloshing weight was forced into his left hand, balancing the scale.

Hastatus hung a dried gourd around Jack's neck on a string. "Aqua. Biba toto queo." Jack bit back a howl of frustration and rage as the weight dragged him down. Hastatus just laughed and patted his head affectionately.

Bent almost double from the hideously shifting weight of the buckets, Jack was turned and a rope was tied around his neck. A leash. His keeper tugged it and he was forced to follow, or choke. He tried to drop the buckets, but he couldn't bend his wrists far enough. The hemp rope cut into his hands as he tried to wriggle free and water splashed on the ground as he stumbled. Jack tried not to think about it as the cool drops splashed on his feet. The smell of water was everywhere.

Hastatus stopped him in the outer room. He took the gourd from Jack's neck and handed it to one of the men on the platform. They each drank, then the gourd was returned. A tug of the leash and they were off again. Out of the building, into the yard. Jack could not lift his head to see where he was being dragged. Just the dirt, his feet, the rope, and the water, just out of reach. It was maddening. Maddening, hell. It was infuriating.

The dirt gave way to grass, and then Jack was seeing grape vines off to either side. He was stopped every few feet by a tug on the leash, allowing the workers to drink their fill. Twice, they returned to the water barrels to refill the buckets. Hastatus gave him a sip on the second trip, enough to wet his lips, then poured the rest of the gourd on the ground. Jack watched the water flow into the packed dirt and thought up yet another creative way to kill his keeper.

The day wore on and Jack was led up one endless line of vines, and down the next. His wrists and shoulders felt raw, his mouth like a desert, and his back was about to break. His ears were still sharp, though, and he began to hear whispers. "Bellator caederae Harundo." "Harundo mortus est." Apparently, a certain gap-toothed bastard had been missed. By the looks on the faces of the men in the fields, he would not be mourned. Jack drew great comfort from that.

Coming to a stop, he looked up at Hastatus with cold eyes and straightened his back with a painful effort of will. Under his breath he said, "I am Colonel Jack O'Neill of SG-1. You are a waste of skin, you sadistic bastard." He'd be damned if this jerk was going to see him cave. With a toothy smile, he turned and offered water to the next man in line. By chance, it was his companion from yesterday, the one with the brand on his cheek. FUG. Jack wondered what it meant.

The branded man took the gourd and drank, then looked toward Hastatus. The guard was looking away, his eyes on the progress of the pickers. Refilling the gourd, the man held it to Jack's lips. "Bibae, cito." Jack drank, gulping the warm water in surprise.

"Thanks." The branded man grimaced and hung the gourd back around Jack's neck, then held up a bunch of grapes. Looking over his shoulder again to be sure he wasn't seen, the man placed four grapes into Jack's mouth. Jack chewed quickly and swallowed, the ripe grapes bursting in his mouth with juice and a wonderful flavor. "God, that's good. Thank you. Gracias." The branded man put a finger to his lips and scowled. He pushed him toward Hastatus, who was looking back at him suspiciously, and turned back to the vines.

The whisper preceded them and now, whenever Hastatus was not looking, Jack received a dipper of water or a few grapes, or both. By the time the buckets were empty for the third time, he was starting to feel almost human again. A very tired, bruised, pissed off, Black ops trained human who was no longer in danger of passing out from dehydration or low blood sugar. Jack had his second wind, or maybe his third. At any rate, he wasn't going to get any less tired with laughing boy as his goad.

He swung the buckets experimentally. They had a nice heft to them, swinging ponderously at the end of their hemp handles. He discounted the red stain creeping down those ropes; his hands had gone numb an hour ago. Focus on priorities. Jack looked at the back of Hastatus' head, noted the positions of the other guards and that, right now, he was positioned quite near the trees.

He had a sudden, lovely vision of one of the buckets crashing down on his keeper's head. Well, he thought madly, no time like the present.

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *The Drunken Carter

Brushing the poultice from his head, Daniel sat up, then swayed. Their host's wife scowled at him even as she put out a steadying hand. "//You should not rise so soon. Creopacis has a hard hand, and you a soft head.//" She scolded him in an acid tone of voice, but her eyes were worried. "//You should stay abed until tomorrow at the latest.//"

The dimly lit room tilted as he struggled to his feet, then righted itself queasily. "//We must go. Thank you for your help, Caupona, but my friends will leave without me if I stay abed any longer.//" He took a cautious step, then another. His head felt twice as big as normal, and throbbed with every heartbeat. Nausea roiled in his stomach; the out of focus blur before his eyes did not help matters, but the door was before him. It was also opening, and he pasted a serene expression on his face to meet whoever was coming through.

"Why are you standing, DanielJackson?" Teal'c, wonderfully solid and real and alive, looked sternly down at his swaying friend. Sam peered around the Jaffa's bulk and glared.

"Daniel, you look like…."

He held up a hand and made a Jack sound. "Aaarh! I'm fine. You're leaving to get Jack and I'm coming with you." There, end of argument. He stood straighter and walked toward the door, expecting Teal'c to move out of his way.

Fortunately for Daniel's head, Teal'c's reflexes were very good. Daniel registered strong hands supporting him as the floor reached up and tripped him. With Teal'c's help, he found his way to a chair and sank into it. "I am going with you to get Jack," he said. "If you try to go without me, I'll follow you." If I have to crawl, he added mentally, and it might come to that if my head keeps trying to come off.

"You can't walk more than five feet without collapsing, Daniel," Sam pointed out. "How do you expect to rescue Jack?"

Caupona set a cup of steaming, pale green tea in front of him. "What's this?" Grimacing at her confused expression, he translated quickly into Latin.

"//Willow bark tea, young man. It will help your head.//" She set a pouch beside the cup. "//More for later. Drink, if you will not listen to reason. One cup every four hours. No more and no less.//" Sam poked at the bag and it fell over with a rustle of dried leaves. The mild aroma of the tea eased Daniel's nausea and he took a cautious sip. It was bitter and astringent and his head started feeling better almost immediately. The old woman gave a harrumph, but looked pleased as the lines of tension eased around her patient's eyes and mouth. She tidied up the bedchamber quickly and bustled out of the room, leaving the three to talk.

Sam sat with a sigh as Daniel sipped the hot tea. "What *is * the plan, anyway. Are we going to walk in and pull him out, or what? You're looking better, by the way. Not quite so pale."

"Thanks." He took another sip, then said, "Claudius' idea was to buy him back." Daniel finished the tea, feeling much better. The headache was a dull throb now, and his jaw felt normal sized.

"Buy him back?" Sam sounded incredulous. "That's a terrible plan! What if this Callas guy wants more for the Colonel than we have to offer? What if he won't sell? Way too many variables." She stood and began to pace, muttering to herself. "Frontal assault…no…too risky…. Need a way to free him without question…relatives? Legal way…." Daniel watched her with a bemused smile on his face as she worked through the problem.

Claudius came in quietly, looking very relieved when he saw that Daniel was awake. "//What's wrong?//" He watched Sam pacing and noted how the other two men in the room just stayed out of her way. He joined them at the table.

"//Sam's trying to think up a way to free Jack without buying him. She's afraid Callas won't sell.//"

Pouring a generous cup of wine, Claudius said, "//It's a p-pity neither of you are r-related to him.//"

Sam demanded translations and Daniel obliged. "What does he mean?"

"//Well, as the relative of a freeborn person, he would have never been sold in the first place,//" Claudius explained. "//You could go to C-Callas, claim blood-kinship, and Callas would have no choice but to f-free your friend. But of course you're not.//" Teal'c translated softly as the older man spoke.

"Of course! I thought I remembered reading something like that. That's the plan, then." She grinned triumphantly.

"Um…one problem," Daniel said. "Jack doesn't speak the language. How do we explain that? And, as our ham fisted friend the blacksmith pointed out, I don't exactly look freeborn." Their clothes were actually not that different from anyone else's, but they were of a poorer quality. Obviously hand-me-downs. The problem, he realized, was the difference between the way Sam and he were dressed and the way Claudius was attired. The Emperor's nephew wore a tunica of good linen with blue piping, and had good leather sandals, where Sam and Daniel were barefoot and much more shabbily dressed.

"The Taur'i have a saying, DanielJackson. The clothes make the man."

Sam nodded. "Once you're in better clothes, who'll know the difference?"

"And the language issue?" Daniel was half convinced.

Teal'c said, "Perhaps O'Neill has not said much since his arrival at the vineyard."

Sam and Daniel exchanged a look, then looked back at Teal'c, who thought a moment and then inclined his head in agreement. "You are both correct. It would be uncharacteristic for O'Neill to remain silent under any type of duress or involuntary servitude. But he would not be understood by his captors."

"The Colonel has a way of making himself understood, Teal'c. Tone of voice conveys a great deal." Sam grimaced and sat down. "So, Daniel, you're Jack's brother. Claudius is a friend of the family. Teal'c and I are…."

"Staying here," Daniel said, interrupting. He looked away and down, not meeting Sam's eyes, though she was close enough he could have seen her expression. The sudden anger radiating off of her was warning enough.

In a low, very patient voice, Sam said, "It's a little too early in history for chivalry, Daniel. May I remind you who kicked blacksmith tush and who ended up with knuckle-marks on his face? I can't believe you would even suggest, or think of suggesting that I stay here."

She was furious, but Daniel had to make her understand. "That was one man, Sam. What if there had been two or three? More? We can't afford to put you at risk, not when we're this close to getting home." He knew his argument was not logical and could see her begin poking holes already.

With translation help from Daniel and Teal'c, Claudius was following the conversation. Now he said, "//She should go.//"

Daniel turned to him, incredulous, and winced as the sudden movement made his headache flare anew. "//What? Do you have any idea what could happen to her if this goes wrong? If our bluff gets called?//" They would be sold again, and Claudius possibly tried for theft. The penalty for assisting a fugitive slave was death, for slave and freeborn both. Daniel did not think Claudius' standing within the imperial family was so great as to save him from prosecution.

"//MajorCarter is a skilled warrior, DanielJackson. If it comes to fighting, I would have her at my side.//" Teal'c turned and translated the conversation for the fuming Carter. She looked pleased and surprised by Teal'c's words and flashed a quick smile at her supporters. She turned a determined countenance to Daniel and said, "I'm going."

This was one fight Daniel could not see himself winning, but he had to make them understand. He reached out and put a hand on Sam's arm. "Sam, I don't doubt your ability. It's our ability to protect you if anything goes wrong that I'm worried about. If it comes to fighting, we're sunk already. We are on enemy ground, with no backup or weapons and vastly out-numbered. The whole legal system and way of life for these people is centered on the possession of other people. This is our one and only chance to get Jack out and ourselves home. I just wanted you to be safe if things went wrong; then at least you and Teal'c would be able to make your way back, maybe."

He could see her hackles going down and she patted his hand. "I understand the risks, Daniel, but I need to be in on this. Just get the Colonel out of there, okay?"

"That's the plan."

An hour later, a cart rolled out of the courtyard of the Drunken Carter. It was driven by a blonde youth and guarded by an imposing dark warrior with a fierce gaze that never stopped roaming, looking for threat. In the rear of the cart sat two noble-born men, one slightly older than the other, an uncle perhaps and a favored nephew. Horace waved them farewell from the door of the inn, his little daughter at his side.

At Claudius' direction, Sam guided the mare onto a side track that led out of the valley. Callas' villa was on the other side, spread out in the distance like a blurry postcard to Daniel's eyes. "Having a great time, wish you were here," he said softly. "I have no idea what I'm going to say to this guy."

Teal'c turned and said, "You will think of something, DanielJackson. You are a skilled speaker; O'Neill says that you can talk the posterior extremities off of the hybrid of an equine and a donkey." Sam grinned.

Daniel contemplated throwing a pillow at the Jaffa's head, but decided it would be out of character. "That's hind legs off a mule, and Jack exaggerates." Sometimes being the straight man of SG-1 got old and this was one of those times. When the stone-faced Jaffa was scoring points, it was time to rethink the whole dry-humor, serious guy image. Daniel rubbed his eyes for the thousandth time, taking refuge in the restful dark behind his eyelids as he rehearsed his spiel. The sun's glare was making his sore head ache and he was beginning to feel very nervous.

Looming closer, the villa was also coming into focus. It was a very pleasant place, really, all beige brick and silvery weathered wood. Yellow jasmine and honeysuckle covered the walls and their perfume scented the breeze that blew down towards them. Daniel sneezed and wished for a Kleenex and a couple of Benadryl.

The road led past the villa and over the hill, but Sam guided the cart into the cool shade of the villa's stable yard. A barefoot servant stood waiting for them and helped Claudius and Daniel out of the cart. The major domo was called for and they explained their business there. "//I am sorry. The master has gone back to the vineyards. There has been a further disturbance that he felt he needed to take charge of. Would you care to wait?//"

"//Ah, no. I believe we will seek him out. Thank you all the same.//" They hurried back to the cart and filled the other two in.

"Do you think it's the Colonel?" Sam asked.

"Don't you?"

With a grimace, Sam slapped the reins on the black back and they continued up the road. "I wish for once in his life, the Colonel could make nice with the bad guys."

Daniel made a rude noise. "Yeah, like *that's * gonna happen."

They topped the hill and began descending into the vineyards. Row upon row of sweet smelling grapevines stretched to the distance, climbing down the hill and back up another. Lines of chained men were moving down the rows, but Jack was not among them that Daniel could see. They moved on, the sense of urgency growing stronger.

There were tents at the top of the next hill. They billowed like sails in the rising breeze. A single tree stood, surrounded by hard packed dirt marked by dozens of bare footprints. This appeared to be a central meeting place of some sort; a camp set up for the harvest. The hill was at the center of the sea of grapevines and from its vantage point, the entire vineyard could be seen.

A litter stood to one side of the open area, abandoned, and now that the cart had stopped they could hear sounds of a fight. The four scrambled down from the cart, Teal'c pausing to help Claudius, and ran toward the disturbance.

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

Wrenching his body sideways, Jack brought one of the buckets down on Hastatus' head. It made a most satisfying thud and the man fell like a sack of russets. "Never knew what hit him." A heel strike placed at the bastard's temple was just insurance; Hastatus was out cold. Freedom from the furca hung from his keeper's belt in the form of a small knife. Jack stooped and was immediately overbalanced, almost falling on top of the downed man.

"Dammit." He could not bend his hand enough to grasp the knife. He could touch it, but did not have enough leverage to draw it out. Looking up, Jack saw the row of pickers, mere feet away. The man with the brand on his face was among them. Stooping out of the other guards' line of sight, Jack ran in a low crouch along the line of grapevines. "Hey! A little help here." 

A look of fear and alarm filled the branded man's face. He shook his head and continued picking, not looking back at Jack. 

In disbelief, Jack said urgently, "He has keys to these chains." He kicked the chain at the man's feet. "You help me, we all go free." 

The branded man looked over at the still figure of Hastatus. He saw the keys, and his eyes widened. Then he closed his eyes and shook his head. Next to him was a sandy-haired man who looked down at Jack and said, "Nex omnes, Milesitis Senex. Tace ac abceda." They never turned from the vines, never stopped the steady twist and dip of their labor. The guard two rows down looked over at them, scowling, but did not say anything. 

Jack ground his teeth in frustration. There was no way to make them understand and no way he'd last long with this damn wooden albatross around his neck. One last time, he tried to make them understand. "Just reach over and get the knife. Knife." He mimed a knife in his hand, gripping and cutting the ropes that held him to the furca. "Knife. Free. Help." 

Comprehension dawned in the eyes of the branded man, but he did not move away from the vine. He shook his head and tapped his cheek. "Fugitivus." His voice was harsh and cracked, but his eyes were kind and sorrowful. With that, he returned his attention to the grapes, leaving Jack crouched on the ground, eating rage.

"Fine. Great." He loped unsteadily back to the fallen guard, the furca weighing a ton on his bent back and shoulders, and scrabbled for the knife again. His fingers were still tangled in the bucket rope, making his task all the more difficult. The hilt was in his fingers, the blade slipping free, when the body it belonged to began to move.

Panicked now, Jack grasped the knife hilt with fingers gone numb and pulled just as Hastatus sat up and bellowed, "Effugio!" He pushed Jack backwards and the knife went flying. The cry went up all around the vineyard and guards came running from their stations to converge on the fighting men.

Jack came up swinging, the empty barrels moving like hulking flails that clipped Hastatus in the jaw and kept the others at bay. His maneuverability severely curtailed by the furca, Jack used the weight of the thing as a ram, a pummel, a club. Distantly, he was aware that he had lost the scrap of cloth at his waist during the fracas. It meant nothing. That and his aches were forgotten in the immediacy of the fight as he kicked and swung, knocking the less well-trained men on their asses. A few of them did not get back up. 

Hastatus recovered quickly and made a grab for one of the swinging barrels. He missed and Jack translated his momentum into a sweeping kick that laid the man out again. Two more took his place and Jack realized that it would not be enough to break free for the woods. He would have to put down every damned one of them to get free. Well, so be it. Served them right. 

The overseer was screaming at him from a ways up the hill, but Jack couldn't make out the words. When he looked up again, half blinded with sweat and dust, the man in the green toga was next to him. Then Hastate was up again and this time his grab was successful. He swung Jack around, his broken and bloody mouth a grin of hate, and landed a punch to Jacks' bruised torso. The older man gasped for breath, giving Hastatus the opening he needed. "Necare mie frater, nothus! Canis! Mori tu!" 

Hands made strong by hatred reached for Jack's face, head. One hand clasped his mouth and nose, cutting off his air. The other was grasping his hair, holding him in place. Other hands reached in, pushing him down, pummeling, holding him while he struggled to wrench his face free, to gasp one sip of breath. 

"Desistere! Desistere jam!" The hands holding him down fell away, were wrenched away and there was sweet sweet air flooding his lungs again. He tried to stand, failed, and decided that the ground was a good place to be right now. Then more hands were pulling at him and he kicked at the dark form to which they were attached. 

"Allow me to assist you, O'Neill," the form intoned. Jack squinted, put down what he saw to exhaustion and oxygen depravation, and then looked again.

"teal'c." His voice was hoarse and almost inaudible. "you're dead. am I dead too?" 

"We are both alive, O'Neill." He looked around to see Carter on his other side, grimly working on the ropes around his wrists. She was blinking furiously and her cheeks were wet, but her fingers were sure. A yellowing bruise marred one cheek and Daniel had a much more recent bruise to his jaw. Jack wondered what had been going on. 

"hey, carter...daniel. glad you could join the party." Jack's hands fell away from the furca at last, only to be caught and gently lowered to the ground. They felt like bags of wet cement, weighted and dead. 

"Sam, get the water skin and my old tunica from the cart, okay?" Daniel's voice was soft and dangerous, filled with a tightly controlled rage to match Jack's. He didn't see her go, but Jack heard Carter's pounding footsteps as the furca was eased over his head. "Teal'c, help me get these ropes off of his hands." 

Movement happened at the ends of his arms, but he couldn't feel anything much. Then, before Jack could protest, Daniel shucked off his tunica and eased it over Jack's head, down his arms, covering him at last. He blinked up at Daniel and forced a lopsided grin. "you been workin' out, danny?" Teal'c helped him to sit up and he swayed, then leaned back against the Jaffa. Daniel gave a half smile, ducking his head and then resumed picking bits of hemp from Jack's hand.

Carter ran back, giving Daniel a strange look as she handed him his shirt. She crouched and held the skin to Jack's mouth, and he drank thankfully, thirstily. Daniel pulled the tunica over his head, shrugging into the loose garment with a grimace of distaste. He kneeled next to Jack again, squinting. "You look like hell. Can you make it up the hill? We're getting out of here as soon as I talk to Callas." 

"Who the hell is Callas?" Jack asked. His voice was still hoarse, but stronger now. 

Daniel looked up the hill, then down and back at Jack. "Your, um, the guy who bought you." He looked up at Teal'c and Carter. "Get him up to the cart. We can go back to the inn after we're done here."

Jack watched as Daniel and a strange, limping man approached the man in the green toga and the overseer. The four men began talking at once, but Jack could not bring himself to care about what was being said. With Teal'c's help on one side and Carter's on the other, he made his slow way up the hill. Every ache, bruise, welt, and cuff was making itself known, and reaction was setting in. Too soon, damn it. They weren't out of the woods yet. Forcing himself to support his own weight, Jack topped the rise.

Hastate stood before them, between them and the cart. Anger glinted in his eyes and he leveled a finger at Jack, shouting.

To his surprise, Teal'c answered in the same language. The guard paled and backed away, then slunk back down the hill. "What did you say to him?" Carter wanted to know. 

So, for that matter, did Jack.

"He accused O'Neill of killing his brother and expressed a desire to inflict further harm. I informed him that I would not allow that and if an attempt was made on any in our group, the consequences would be most unpleasant for him." Teal'c looked darkly angry at the man's retreating form, then turned to assist Jack into the cart.

Carter piled the cushions high and helped settle the sore man onto them. "Not much longer now, Sir. Are you comfortable?" She fussed with the cushions, careful not to jar his lacerated wrists, until he was ready to strangle her. Unfortunately, his arms were still on strike. He didn't want to think about moving his hands. 

"I've been better, Carter. Then again, I've been worse. Recently. Where have you all been, and where did you find Teal'c?" The water, rest, and shade were doing wonders for his mental acuity, even though a chihuahua could probably best him two falls out of three at present. "Got any food, by the way? The hospitality here stinks."

"Oh, of course." A wedge of cheese was produced, along with some dried fruit, and, with Teal'c's assistance, O'Neill ate while his 2IC brought him up to speed.

"So, we're in Westworld?" Jack flexed his hand experimentally and hissed. "That's Daniel's theory?" 

Before Sam could respond, Daniel and the other man topped the hill. The walked at a slow pace to accommodate the stranger's limp and they came alone. "It's done." Daniel said as they came in earshot. "Let's go."

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

Helping Claudius into the cart, Daniel looked back over his shoulder at the angry men coming up the hill. He had talked fast, spinning his tale of the good soldier, one of the last surviving veterans of Quintillius Varus' legions of doomed men. The soldier, addled in his wits until even his language was lost to him, wandering away from family and friends only to wash up on the auctioneers' block. It was a moving tale, and Claudius' presence added verisimilitude and weight to the story, for surely a member of the imperial family would not lie about such matters.

Then there was the issue of the murdered trustee. Harundo, his name had been. Jack had apparently killed him on his second night here, for reasons unknown. Callas had demanded payment for the price of the slain man, but Claudius had quietly pointed out the condition in which Jack had been found. The murdered man's brother had taken out the fee in O'Neill's hide, and then some. Grudgingly, Callas had called it even and waved them away. His overseer looked dyspeptic, and the slaves in the fields looked restless.

Daniel did not start breathing until the cart was rolling down the hill. Jack was tucked safely into the back, with Teal'c keeping a watchful eye out for trouble. Sam was keeping an eye out for potholes, trying to drive the cart as steadily as she could. Every now and again, though, a muffled curse would rise from the pile of pillows and she would wince in sympathy. Her shoulders were hard as rocks by the time they turned back to the smoother main road, headed for the inn.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Jack asked. "Carter said you had a map or a scroll or something." Now that the rough road was behind him, he was starting to look a little more comfortable.

Reaching down, Daniel put a hand on Jack's forehead. He was still far too hot and Daniel was not sure if it was a fever heat or sunstroke. "We're going back to the inn where we found Teal'c. There's a woman there who can help get you patched up." The headache was coming back again, making his temples throb and his eyes ache. There was also something uncomfortably wrong with his back. He rolled his shoulders trying to ease the tension there. 

"If we have a way home, I'd rather trust Dr. Fraiser than the local witch doctor." Jack tried to sit up, but his hands wouldn't obey him. "Carter, aim this thing toward the exit and let's get out of here."

"Jack, no." O'Neill glared at him and Daniel hastened to explain. "We don't have any first aid supplies and you're burning up. The 'Gate is a couple of days away as near as I can tell, and you need to rest. You really do look like hell, Jack."

He had to feel like hell, too. Daniel flinched at the memory of Jack, naked and struggling under the weight of seven men as they tried to smother the life from him. What skin had not been bruised had been sunburned and god knew how long he'd been tied to that wooden thing. Long enough to leave pressure sores on his shoulders, anyway. The tunica had two matching stains now, one on each side.

Thankfully, he backed down. "Nevermind, Carter. Wake me when we get there." With a final glare at Daniel, Jack relaxed into the cushions and closed his eyes.

"//Your f-friend is very stubborn.//" Claudius commented.

Jack's eyes popped open, two burning cinders, and affixed on Claudius. "Who did you say this was again, Daniel?" His gravelly voice was low and dangerous. Claudius looked taken aback at the hatred simmering in the older man's eyes, and he scooted a little farther from him.

Upon reflection, Daniel realized that Jack had probably very few pleasant associations with Latin right now. "This is Claudius. He, um, rescued us. Or helped us rescue ourselves. Got us out of the palace, anyway." He gave Claudius a reassuring nod. 

"//Actually, my name is Tiberius Claudius Drusus Nero Germanicus. Everyone in Rome has at least three or four names,//" Claudius explained diffidently. Daniel was suddenly glad he had not introduced himself with all five names when he'd first met Teal'c. When Daniel translated for Jack, he could see O'Neill was thinking the same thing. A smile twitched his lip and he relaxed once again.

"Colonel Jack O'Neill, SG-1. Please'ta meecha."

"P-p-please'ta meecha. Ita, Sam?" Claudius looked up to his language teacher for confirmation.

"Ita. Bene."

Jack looked from one to the other and rolled his eyes. "Does everyone speak that damn language but me?"

Their haven came into view at last. Horace was waiting for them in the foreyard, his daughter at his side and a basket in his hand. "//Caupona said you might need this. She is waiting for you all. Facis, here, will guide you. I will tend to your cart and horse.//" He cast sympathetic eyes on O'Neill, standing shakily on his own but looking very tired and battered. "//It is a short walk, and an easy one. Facis, take the blanket.//" He handed the heavy basket to Daniel and shooed them down a shaded path that ran behind the inn. 

The laurels loomed all around them, old growth, creating a cool tunnel in the trees. They walked slowly, in deference to Claudius' limping gait and Jack's painful one. Teal'c stood at O'Neill's side, a strong grip ready to hand, but the Colonel walked unassisted most of the way. True to Horace's word, the path was level and easy, and soon at an end.

A dappled green clearing opened before them. The stream they had been hearing wound from a large pond, over which hung willows and laurels in shady perfusion. Caupona had lit a small fire and laid down more blankets, hanging up a few to form a screen between two trees. The old woman beckoned them forward, relieving Daniel of the basket with an impatient gesture. "//Come, come, bring your friend. He looks half dead, not that I'm too surprised, given what I've seen come down the hill, but no matter. No blushes now.//"

Jack looked at Daniel, who said, "She wants to check you over."

"This is the witch doctor?" Jack swayed slightly and Daniel put a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. "Are you nuts? She looks like my great-grandmother."

He turned to go back up the path and nearly ran into the little girl. "//Avia is really very smart. I had a pain in my tummy once and she gave me some tea and made me feel better. The tea tasted icky, though.//"

Looking down at the tiny child, Jack seemed almost to deflate. Teal'c rumbled a translation and he acknowledged with a tired nod. "Ok. I give."

Caupona smiled and guided him behind the screen. Muffled curses, both in Latin and English, floated out intermittently. Daniel expected one of the two to call him for translator services, but they seemed to be communicating fairly well, in the universal language of Cranky.

Finally, the old woman came out and motioned to Daniel. "//Your friend is much abused, but is in no danger from his hurts, though his side is damaged. He has had too much sun, and too much work and worry for too long. Take him to the pool and let the water cool him and hold him for a time. Then let him sleep. Feed him when he wakes and keep his wrists and shoulders covered. Time will heal the rest.//" She looked shrewdly up at the younger man. "//You have not been drinking the tea I gave you, have you? I thought not. Your head aches and your eyes blur. Your stomach will not keep the food you give it, no? No. Lucky for you, I brought some. It is steeping now.//" She threw up her hands in disgust and disappeared behind the curtain once again.

In the stunned silence that followed the woman's barrage of words, Sam's snicker was clearly audible. "How much of that did you get, Sam?" Daniel looked over to the small fire she was tending.

"Oh, most of it. Come drink your tea." She held out a stoneware mug, full of the steaming straw-colored beverage. "There's honey if you want sweetener. I don't think they have cane sugar."

He took a sip of the astringent tisane and his eyes began to water. "Whew. How long has this been steeping?" The ache in his temples was easing, though. Digging through the basket, he found a wrapped bowl full of dripping honeycomb. Pouring a generous dollop into the cup, he took another sip. Better.

"Carter!" Jack's gravelly voice called from behind the curtain. Sam stood up from the fire, coming almost to attention.

"Yes, Sir? Do you need some help?"

"No! Well, yes, but…. Just close your eyes, Carter." An elderly chuckle was heard, and an answering growl as Carter turned. Her fair skin showed the blush very well, Daniel thought. "Daniel, get over here!"

He startled, gulped the rest of his tea in a hot gulp, and ran over to the curtain. Peeping behind it, he saw Jack lying on the ground. "Help me up, willya? My arms feel al dente."

"That's Italian, Jack, not Latin." Daniel pulled him up and wrapped one of the linen sheets around him. "Caupona wants you to take a little swim. You're overheated."

O'Neill looked at the pond, then back at Daniel. "I don't really feel up to a dip right now, Daniel. Maybe later."

"Come on, Jack. It's just what the witch doctor ordered." He pulled the slightly resistant Colonel to the water's edge. The water was cool, but not cold, and so clear he could see their shadows on the sandy bottom. Very reluctantly, Jack let Daniel pull him into the water, dropping the sheet when the level rose above his waist. Daniel pulled off his tunic as well, not liking the way it wrapped around his legs and tried to trip him as he waded.

He pulled Jack deeper, easing him into a floating position and holding his head securely above the water. The older man's legs had a bad habit of sinking; he was all muscle and sinew, and not very buoyant. "Just relax, Jack. Let the water hold you up."

"Feels good." The tension under Daniel's hands was slowly easing as Jack relaxed into the water's cooling embrace. He closed his eyes and vented a small sigh. Time and familiarity made their state of undress a non-issue. Jack seemed to be content to let Daniel hold him indefinitely in the soothing water. Daniel drew comfort from the contact, the solid reality of his best friend, and hoped that his presence was a comfort for Jack. It seemed to be; Jack's breathing was evening out and his face was relaxing from the pinched grimace it had held most of the day.

The clearing was quiet for a time. SG-1 was together again, and that was good. They were relatively unharmed, and that was also good. Daniel looked toward the bank to the pale and dark blobs that were Sam and Teal'c and felt complete again. His family was all around him and now it was time to go home.

"Daniel, I'm curious about something," Jack said softly, interrupting Daniel's reverie. He opened his eyes and looked up at his friend. "This isn't really Rome, circa 27Ad or so, right?"

"Not according to Claudius' scroll." Daniel scooped up some water and damped Jack's still warm head, pulling him into the shaded part of the pond. Jack's limbs trailed along, boneless.

"We're in our own time, on a planet that someone or someone's have set up as a kind of living history exhibit." His voice was getting stronger, Daniel was pleased to note.

"Right. I think. Or interactive museum." Jack's skin was starting to feel chilled. "Are you feeling better?"

"Much. Carter, cover your eyes again!" They waded back to dry land. Teal'c was waiting with their tunics, warm and smelling of woodsmoke from the fire. Jack groaned in pure sensual delight as the Jaffa helped him don the garment, easing the fabric over his shoulders and belting it loosely. "I've gone to heaven. You can open your eyes now, Carter."

"Hey!" Daniel yelped, and hastily dove into his shabby, but clean, slave's tunic. Sam did not giggle, but it was a near thing. Jack did grin, though, as Teal'c helped him sit down on the blankets near the fire. Sam handed the Colonel a bowl of warm, fragrant broth, then handed a second bowl to Daniel. "Thanks."

"So, to continue my question: Where did he come from?" Jack pointed at Claudius.

Daniel took a sip of the meaty broth, stalling. "I'm not really sure." At his nod, Teal'c moved over to the Roman and translated in a low murmur.

"Wait a sec, Teal'c. I'm not so sure we want to do that," Jack said. "He's a part of all this, and from what Carter was telling me, he's also a slave-owner, like Callas. Why are we assuming he's a good guy?"

"With all due respect, Sir," Sam said, "Claudius has been instrumental in our progress so far, and a good friend as well. He knows the area, the political climate, and has been more than willing to share information."

Daniel added, "Besides, he's the one who found you." He nodded reassuringly at Claudius, who was watching the untranslated conversation closely.

With a weak chop of his hand, Jack said, "He owns slaves, Daniel. Hell, he owned you and Carter for a while. I can't believe you're defending him. I'm surprised you're not up in arms to free all the slaves on this planet, for that matter." The water had cooled O'Neill's fever, but not his temper. The last several days had been hardest on him, both physically and emotionally. Daniel had been with Sam, and then Teal'c. Jack had been alone.

"I've been working on freeing the handful I know personally," Daniel said calmly. He sipped his broth and wished the ache in his head would go away completely. The tea helped but not quite enough. He couldn't quite make out Jack's expression in the waning light, but he was pretty sure it wasn't a smile. "If we have time, after we get to Ponza and find the gate, I'll find my magic wand and free everyone else. You're always trying to get me to prioritize, Jack. Don't be so surprised the lessons are sinking in."

There was a shocked silence from the rest of SG-1. Jack broke it, saying, "Did you bring your magic wand, this trip? I thought I saw it in your locker when we were gearing up."

"I am certain I saw it, O'Neill," Teal'c said. "DanielJackson, you must have misplaced it when you misplaced your corrective lenses."

Sam was on Daniel's side of the fire, so he could see her impish smile as she turned to contemplate him. "I've never seen you as the fairy godmother type, Daniel. Fairy godbrother, maybe."

"Fairy Godfather," he corrected, ducking his head and smiling. "I'm gonna grant you a wish that you cannot refuse."

He was rewarded by a surprised bark of laughter from Sam and a wincing protest from Jack.

"Oh! OW! Don't make me laugh." Jack held his side, cracking up and wincing. "That was the worst, absolute worst Brando impression I've ever heard."

Daniel grinned as the levity banished the remainder of the shadows from Jack's mood. "You should hear Teal'c's Han Solo."

Eyes streaming, clutching his bruised ribs, Jack looked expectantly at the stoic Jaffa. Sparing Daniel a pained look, Teal'c intoned, "Never quote me the odds."

This set them off again, leaving Claudius confused, but relaxed as the tension died away. "//Is all well, Daniel?//" he asked softly, under the laughter. Daniel nodded and finished his soup.

The sound of running footsteps brought the laughter to an abrupt end. The sun had almost set, leaving the path in shadows. Teal'c and Sam stood quickly and faced the pathway, their stances set and ready for a fight if need be. Jack scrambled to his feet, Daniel supporting him on one side and Claudius on the other. The Colonel looked at the Roman in surprise when he took his arm, but didn't shrug him off.

"//It's me! Alvanus.//" The blacksmith's apprentice announced himself as he entered the clearing at a run. Lurching to a stop, he said, panting, "//You must fly, now. Creopacis has gone to Callas to betray you. He knows you are no freeborn, Daniel, and that you meant to deceive your friend's owner to free him. Quickly, Horace has your cart and horses ready. I will tend to the fire. Go!//"

"How'd he know…" Jack said, then shook his head and allowed himself to be hurried back down the dark path. 

The stable yard was lit with the last of the sun's light, rose and gold painting the inn and reminding Daniel of his last glimpse of Palatine Hill. Horace was waiting for them once again, this time holding the harness of a paired team. The black mare and a dappled bay were harnessed to a cart, larger than they had arrived in, and partially covered. "//This is not our cart, Horace.//" Teal'c pointed out.

"//It is now. You have food and bedding, and your belongings are in the cart as well. Callas will find only delay here, but he will be quick to follow you. Please, you must hurry.//" The genial man was all business as Jack and Claudius were helped into the cart. "//I am to tell you, from Caupona, that the red bottle is for you, Daniel, and the black and white is for your aged friend.//"

Daniel glanced at Jack and smothered a smile. Some things were not meant to be translated. "//Thank her for us, Horace. We owe her much. For that matter, we owe you much.//" He scrambled into the cart, wincing a little as the abused muscles in his back were pulled. The cart was a generous gift, as was the additional horse needed to pull it. Hospitality was a virtue in the ancient world, and it was considered rude to question such things, despite the burning desire to know.

"//You owe me nothing, freeman.//" Horace drew back his tunica sleeves to expose his forearms. His wrists were ringed with scars. "//I have paid a debt today. I help you as one once helped me.//" He grinned then and stepped back as Sam and Teal'c clambered in. "//Good journey to you, and to the lovely Amazon. You should make the crossroads with the Via Domitana by twilight tomorrow.//" He slapped the broad back of the black mare and waved them on their way.

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

The cart clattered over the flat paving stones of the Appia. The old soldier had settled in to sleep finally, Claudius was pleased to note. The pile of cushions under the tarp covered portion of the cart was currently being occupied by the Colonel, as Sam called him, and by the Nubian, Teal'c. A full moon shone down on them, lighting the way for their flight once again. 

An hour south of the inn, Daniel had pulled the horses to a stop and asked Claudius if he wanted to continue on this journey. "//You are putting your life and reputation in jeopardy by coming with us. Maybe you should go back to Rome.//"

Claudius had no desire to part company with them and said so. "//My reputation, wha-at there is of it, is of little v-value to me. I am kn-known to be a half-wit; perhaps my f-family will simply ascribe my behavior to that. I am not concerned. Besides,//" he added, "//how often do I get adventures?//"

Daniel had nodded, conceding the point. "//We welcome your company, Claudius. I was just worried for you.//" That had felt good. No one had really worried for him since Postumus. Certainly, no one in his family. 

Now, the boy was squinting again, trying to keep the cart in a straight line and the horses at a brisk pace. "//Let me drive, Daniel,//" Claudius offered. 

"//I'm fine.//"

"//You're s-squinting, and the way you're driving is f-frightening the horses. I know your head aches from the b-blacksmith's b-blow, and your eyes are bad in this light.//" Daniel looked almost convinced. Claudius added, "//Your d-d-dark friend is asleep, Sam is almost asleep, and your C-Colonel looks like a Greek tragedy. For once, I am the m-most fit person in the group. Let me enjoy it!//" Daniel laughed, a quiet huff of humor, then he nodded. "//Drink some of C-Caupona's brew and get some rest.//" Claudius put his hand over the reins and pulled the horses to a gentle stop. "//G-Go on, now. I know you have slept little in your w-worry for J-Jack.//" He climbed onto the bench and waited while Daniel made up his mind and clambered into the back.

With a click of his tongue and a tap on the reins, the cart was going again. The clink of stoneware behind him told Claudius that Daniel was looking for the well-wrapped amphorae that Caupona had packed. With a small triumphant cry, Daniel found it and took a long swallow of the tea, then sealed it again and returned it to it's nesting cocoon of blankets. "//Wake me when the moon goes down, Claudius. Or wake Sam.//"

When he looked back over his shoulder, much later, Claudius saw a pile of sleeping bodies, jumbled together like puppies. Sam was curled into a loose ball, with Daniel's arm thrown over her waist and her head resting on the Colonel's outflung arm. They were all deeply asleep, not shifting in their exhausted slumber. All but one.

The dark warrior was sitting upright, his back braced against the sway of the cart. He did not appear to be asleep; his breathing was too deliberate for slumber. Curious. Despite his relaxed posture and closed eyes, he almost seemed to be keeping guard over his friends. Returning his attention to the road, Claudius decided to ask Sam later. 

The road was quiet in the deep night. No other travelers were abroad at this hour. The moon sailed across the night sky, lending a silver tint to the scudding clouds and turning the gray paving stones over which they rode into a wonder and a king's ransom. 

The palace would be quiet at this hour, he reflected, except for the nocturnal scuttle of assignations and slaves on errands. The cooks would be up in an hour or so to begin the day's baking. Herod would be staggering back to his apartments about now, grinning and smelling of wine and cheap women. Claudius smiled, thinking of his lifelong friend. He wondered what Herod Agrippa would think of his adventure up to now. Freeing slaves, lying to free another slave, fleeing across country in the dead of night with no idea what his final destination might be. Come to think of it, Herod would probably be having a wonderful time.

Dawn crept up slowly, with still no sign of pursuit. The Via Appia was the oldest road in the Empire, and had, in the Great Augustus' day, been lengthened to the south and east to meet with the port at Brindisium. It wound through mountains and swamps, over hills and valleys, through town and farmland. By the markers, they had traveled about half-way between Roma and Terracina, on the coast. The hills were becoming steeper, with the Lepini range to the east and the sea to the distant west. Unless Daniel wanted to detour at the crossroads at Arpinum, they would reach the port city in two days. Ponza was a short boat ride beyond that, if the winds would cooperate. 

The trees were giving way to grassy hills that sloped to the coast. A cool breeze blew off of the mountain range, and Claudius pulled his woolen traveling cloak from under the seat and shrugged it on. It would be warm soon enough, but now the cloak was welcome. 

The world was waking up, though his charges slept on behind him, and he stopped at an enterprising farmer's roadside stand to purchase some eggs and fresh bread. Claudius asked, very casually, about unusual traffic along the Appia, but the farmer denied seeing anything strange. No troops, for example, nor Imperial guard. Satisfied, Claudius drove on.

The horses were showing signs of fatigue, though, and Claudius was feeling tired and hungry himself. He began looking for a good place for a rest stop, and was delighted to see a bridge in the distance. Bridges meant water, and the horses needed that as much as a rest.

The stone bridge crossed a merry brook, full with melt water from the mountains. Claudius crossed it and pulled off the road. There was a beaten down area where others had obviously made similar stops. While the four slept in the cart, Claudius built up a small fire, led the horses to drink and picketed them where they could forage. This done, he returned to the fire and set the fresh eggs to roast in the coals. He nibbled on some of the bread while he waited, listening to the water's babble and enjoying the peace.

"Oh!" Sam's startled voice drew his attention to the cart. She was sitting up, a confused expression on her face, her short blonde hair sticking up like dandelion fuzz. "We've stopped." She looked around until she saw Claudius, and her face broke into a sleepy smile. "//Morning.//"

"Morning, Sam. F-Food soon." 

Gracefully, the woman picked her way through her sleeping companions and climbed out of the cart. With an embarrassed look, she made a break for some bushes, downstream Claudius was glad to see. After some minutes, she returned and sat by the fire. He handed her a hunk of the fresh bread, which she wolfed down with a very un-matronly haste. "That's good! Bene!" 

He understood more English than he could speak at this point, and she more Latin. A question had been plaguing Claudius for some time, and he did not want to filter it through either the young man or the warrior. Now seemed the right time to try to ask. In careful English, he said, "Sam. A question?"

"Yes?" She reached into the food bag and took out an apple. 

"Daniel is j-joined with you?" He mimed putting his hands together, as in a marriage ceremony. 

"Joined? He's my friend." She was confused

"I d-do not understand word. Friend?" Claudius dug one of the roasted eggs from the coals with a stick and rolled it into the grass to cool. "Daniel talk to C-C-Caligula, soror, you." Sam looked puzzled at the unfamiliar word. "Frater, soror." The rest of the eggs joined the first, steaming in the cool air.

Confusion was followed by understanding. "Sister. Soror is sister. No, I'm not Daniel's sister. Friend is," she paused, thinking. "Companion. Someone you trust. Someone you like, or love, but not like a husband or lover."

"Amicus." Daniel's sleepy voice drifted out of the cart. There was a thump, and the cart shifted on its wheels. Much grumbling followed, most of which was unintelligible. Sam was smiling and blushing, though Claudius did not understand why. "And agape. The love of a friend is agape."

"T-That's Greek." Claudius pointed out. 

"I know. Why have we stopped?"

"Horses needed a rest, and so did Claudius," Sam replied. Claudius tended the fire and let the conversation go on around him. The more English he heard, he reasoned, the more he would understand, even if it remained untranslated. "I also want a bath. You and the Colonel had your little dip yesterday; I want my turn. I smell."

"Well, I didn't want to say anything." He ducked down into the wagon, avoiding the hurled hunk of bread by a hair's breadth. A grunt and muttered exclamation from the Colonel told them where the missile had landed. "Morning, Jack. Sam's delivering breakfast in bed."

"Mmph…I ordered a Western Omelet." 

"We are not in beds, DanielJackson."

The three men clambered out, amid much groaning and stretching, and were all soon sitting down to breakfast while Sam had her bath. The dark warrior, Teal'c, translated everything that had been said for Claudius' benefit, which left the Roman understanding only a little more than he had prior to the explanation. That set the pattern, with the Colonel's tacit permission; either Daniel or Teal'c would translate for Claudius and O'Neill, unless asked not to.

"//So, Sam is married to none of you. Nor is she related to any of you.//" He did not miss the amused looks that passed between O'Neill and Daniel. 

"//That is correct, TiberiusClaudiusDrus….//"

Jack made a noise and held up a bandaged hand. "Aah! Don't even start, Teal'c. You've been calling him Claudius all along and you can just keep right on doing it." Teal'c raised an eyebrow, but did not comment further apart from a regal nod of his head.

Daniel's mouth was twitching and his eyes danced as he murmured Latin in Claudius' ear. "//He still calls me DanielJackson,//" the young man added. "//Why do you ask?//"

"//Not for the reasons you're thinking. I'm m-m-arried.//" He tossed an egg to Daniel. "//I'm just c-curious about your people.//"

Sam rejoined them at the fire, her wet hair slicked back, and clothed in the pale blue tunic she had worn since leaving the palace. "I wish I had something to change into. This is getting kinda old."

Remembering what Horace had said about provisions, Claudius climbed to his feet and limped to the cart. After rummaging for a few minutes he found a matron's green tunic and stola, tied into a loose bundle by a green and gold brocade belt. The woman's eyes lit up when she saw the silk bundle. "Where did you…. It's lovely, Claudius." She gave him a quick hug, much to his surprise, and darted to the other side of the cart to change.

"//We were t-too recognizable as we were.//" Claudius said, his ears warm from the woman's enthusiastic embrace. "//Now we are a small household. N-No one will question.//" 

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"Damn, that man can snore. Think it has anything to do with the stammer?" The Colonel leaned against the side of the cart, bracing his legs against the gently rocking sway. Claudius was sprawled across the cushions under the tarp, his twitching limbs limp in sleep. 

There was something sweet about him, Sam decided, looking down at him. Despite the snoring, which was, she had to admit, quite loud. "He drove all night, Sir. I can put up with a little snoring." It was getting hot. She slipped the stola off and rolled up the tunica's sleeves, wishing for BDU's or at least a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. 

"This isn't a little snoring, Carter. This is a full-scale assault. I've been in firefights that were quieter than his snoring, for crying out loud. Can't you get him to turn on his side, or something?" He nudged the sleeping man with his foot, but could not make him turn, then gave up. He leaned his head back tiredly and closed his eyes. "Whatever."

Several hours of sleep had not banished her CO's fatigue completely, she realized. Normally, the Colonel could be counted upon for several more volleys, or at least a better quality of sarcasm. "Sorry, Sir. Nothing I can do." The stress was wearing on them all. They needed to get home. 

Traffic was picking up around them, wagons and horses competing with hand drawn carts and foot travelers for possession of the roadway. They had been passed by runners several times, carrying messages to and from the towns along the path, but had not seen signs of anyone looking for or inquiring about them. Sam thought Horace had probably sent Callas on a snipe hunt back to Rome; that's what she would have done in his place. 

She nudged Claudius again; he rolled over and quieted. "Magic touch, Sir." She grinned at O'Neill's sarcastic smirk.

"Is Daniel asleep?" the Colonel asked her in a near whisper. Daniel was laying under the tarp alongside Claudius, seemingly oblivious to everything.

Not so oblivious. "Daniel is awake. Daniel is just resting his eyes. What does Jack want?" The anthropologist sat up, rubbing his face and squinting at the Colonel. 

"Jack wants to know what the plan is." He was trying to tone down the sarcasm, but it was an effort. "Where are we headed, Daniel? I heard someone say Pond scum?"

"Ponza. It's an island off the east coast of the Lazio region of Italy, where we are now." Daniel crawled out from under the tarp and began rooting around for the bottles of tea the old woman had given them. 

"I thought we weren't in Italy, or on Earth. I thought this was an amusement park, albeit not a very amusing one." The Colonel was picking at the bandages circling his wrists again, wincing and not meeting anyone's eyes. Sam frowned at the scabs on his palms; at least nothing had looked infected the last time he had allowed her to change his dressings.

Finding the bottle, Daniel took a long swallow, grimacing at the taste. "Have you had your dose, Jack? The black and white one is yours. I think it's a pain-killer of some kind." 

"Yeah, yeah. Time to connect the dots, Danny. Report."

"Okay." No rummaging this time; Daniel knew right where the maps were. Good thing, too, since they were SG-1's only way home. He unrolled them, holding first one, then the other close to his face, then spread them out on the floor of the cart. "We are *not * on Earth. Near as I can tell, we have been immersed in a live action role-playing scenario that encompasses the lives of the players. This map shows an exact replica of Italy, down to the islands off of the coast but, as you can see, it is not attached to the Europe that we know." He pointed out a very different coastline, though the Mediterranean Sea looked about like Sam remembered it.

"It's Italy, but not really. Got it. Go on."

Daniel pulled out Claudius' scroll and handed it to the Colonel. "The caption at the top says 'Welcome to Rome.' It's written in a derivative of Latin and Etruscan that was in use several hundred years ago, Claudius' time. Apparently, the park owners, for want of a better term, have a way of diverting the Stargate system temporally. They've gone through history, according to this, and plucked up famous and not so famous people at the point of death and brought them here." O'Neill handed the scroll back after giving it a cursory looking over.

"They temporarily divert the 'Gate?"

Sam piped up. "Temporally, Sir. They move in time, as well as in space. But I don't see how that's possible, Daniel." The scientist in her rebelled at the very idea of time travel, never mind that they had done it themselves not so very long ago. "The only way we know of is based almost entirely on chance."

Jackson waved at her impatiently. "I know, and I don't understand it either, but that's what it says, the best I can make out. And the main complex is on Ponza." He pointed to a small island midway down the peninsula. "That's where we find our way home. There's a 'Gate there." He held the scroll close to his eyes again. "In the grotto beneath the city, you will find the Chapp'ai. We hope you will enjoy your stay." Daniel rolled up the scroll and rubbed his eyes. The sun was just past noon and the light must have been bothering him.

It did not escape the Colonel's notice. In a quiet voice, he asked, "You doin' okay, Daniel?"

"Oh, yeah. Just a little eyestrain, Jack. Nothing to worry about." He pushed absently at the bridge of his nose. "Have you seen the amphorae Caupona sent with us? They are amazing examples of late period pottery and design."

"Don't change the subject. What's with the squint and where'd you and Carter come up with those lovely bruises?"

Placing her hand to the faded, yellowing bruise on her cheek, Sam said wryly, "Probably the same way you got yours, Sir. Not doing what we were told." Daniel flashed her a quick, grateful look for taking some of the weight of O'Neill's scrutiny. 

The Colonel laughed at that. "That's my team. If you can't beat the devil, spit in his eye." His voice was light, but something in his look told Sam he wasn't buying it for a second. Still, he didn't push. 

They stopped twice more to water and rest the horses. Traffic around them varied with their proximity to towns; sometimes there was a great deal of traffic, both foot and cart. Other times, they were alone on the road. At no time, however, did they see signs of their pursuers. Well, it was about time for their luck to change for the better, not that Sam believed in such things.

Traffic began to pick up again as the sun went down. "We must be near the crossroads," Daniel said. He shook Claudius awake gently. 

They heard the crossroads before they saw it. Music and the sounds of many conversations at once heralded the place, a lively village that had grown around the meeting of the Via Appia and the Via Domitana. They crested a hill and saw the place, lit with cooking fires and the setting sun. 

Unlike most villages of its kind, this one was unwalled. The Appia ran into if from the North, while the Domitana ran from east to west. There were few houses lining the roads, except at the town center; most of the population seemed to be transient judging by the number of carts and wagons dotting the landscape. Tents of various colors and sizes flapped in the night breeze, and the tantalizing smell of cooked meats wafted toward the travelers as they made their way down the hill. Sam's stomach rumbled in response.

"Hungry, Sam?" Claudius asked with a yawn.

She shrugged on her stola against the cooling air. "I've had nothing but bread, cheese, and fruit for the last three days. A steak would look great about now."

"I'll second that," the Colonel said. 

As they rolled through the campground, they noted several open cook fires where food could be purchased. At the Colonel's order, Sam and Daniel went to get food while he and Teal'c set up a quick camp. The plan was to rest for a few hours, then drive the rest of the night, just in case they were still being followed. Claudius was to go after provisions separately and keep his ears open for gossip.

They wandered through the campgrounds, Daniel trailing a little behind Sam. The village was nestled at the base of a tall hill, or a short mountain depending on your point of view. Scrubby laurels vied with old growth willows and oak trees to the north, giving way to the beginnings of coastal grasslands to the south. It was in these grasslands that the village sat, rambling along the two roadways that intersected at the town center. It seemed, as they moved through it, that the whole purpose of the village was to serve the needs of the transient wagon trade, and travelers of other types, that met up at these crossroads. Looking about with interest, Daniel said, "This really is fascinating, from an anthropological point of view."

A toothless woman was selling flatbread and seasoned meat and onions; Sam bought several and stowed them in a bag. "Gratia, matris." The woman smiled and patted Sam's hand as she took the money. "What's fascinating, Daniel?" She handed him the bag; he took it absently, trying to see everything at once in the dimming light.

"This culture. We're immersed in an ancient civilization that we've only been able to speculate about before. We have the literature of the day; Livy and Seutonius' 'De Vita Caesarum.' And the poets, of course. But extrapolating a culture from its literature is like...like the blind men describing the elephant."

She thought she understood. "If someone in the future were to stumble across, say, The Hobbit, or some right wing conservative's latest rant-book, they might get some very interesting ideas about the 20th century."

"Exactly. I almost wish we had more time here, to study the less well-documented aspects of Roman society." 

A group of young women were circulating among the camping travelers. Every now and then one would break away from the gaggle and disappear with a smiling man, or men, into a tent. "I think an aspect of Roman society wants to study you, Daniel." The women were drifting closer, looking at her friend with libidinous eyes, if she was not mistaken. 

"Hmm? What?" She pointed out the giggling gaggle and thought he blushed, though it was hard to tell in the firelight. "I don't think they're interested in me, Sam. In this tunic, with you dressed like that, they have to think I'm your," he groped for a word, "property." 

She turned a horrified look on him. "What? Why didn't you say something?" She plucked the bag from his grasp and pulled him back toward camp, glaring at the girls.

"It's not important, Sam. We know what the truth is." He let himself be pulled along though, looking back at the pouting prostitutes with a thoughtful eye. 

"It's damn well important to me, Daniel. Claudius has got to have something else for you to wear." They made it back to the wagon without incident and Sam handed off the tucker-sack to the Colonel. 

"Gyros, Sir, or the local equivalent."

He took an appreciative sniff. "Smells good. Well done, Major. Pull up some ground and let's eat." He reached into the bag with stiff fingers and pulled out a greasy cloth bundle that really did smell like heaven. Passing the bag, he unwrapped the bundle and took a bite. The first moment of chewing was tentative, but then a look of pleased surprise filled the Colonel's face. "Oh, yeah. Much better than MRE's. You shop from now on, Carter." He finished the first sandwich quickly and reached for another.

"Yes, Sir. Daniel, why don't you see if there's something you can wear in the cart." She fished a sandwich out and glared at him as he ignored her and sat down by the fire.

Snagging the bag from her hand, he said, "Sam, if our little 'household', as Claudius put it, didn't have at least one servant, we'd draw attention to ourselves. Look around you."

Wondering what she was supposed to see, Sam let her eyes wander over the campground's chaotic jumble of tents and people. A pattern began to emerge as she analyzed the campers. Most of their fellow travelers were obviously tradesmen and their families. Even these, though, had one or two people who seemed to be doing most of the physical work. The more well-off travelers had five or six. Somehow, even being immersed in the market, back in Rome, had not brought the reality of their situation home to her as much as seeing the blind acceptance of servitude among the common people. 

She looked back at Daniel glumly. "You're right. We'd be noted. I hadn't realized slavery was so pervasive." Up until now, even during that humiliating auction, their position and condition had not seemed real to her. When she had been traded to that warlord, on the third, no fourth mission through the Stargate, she had always known she could walk away. The only thing stopping her at that time was concern for the other women.

Here, there would have been no rescue, had Claudius not believed Daniel that second night and decided to accompany them. They would have been stuck at the palace forever, unless they had managed to escape, and then what? As fugitive slaves, they would have had little hope for a long life. 

She realized now what an amazing step Claudius had taken in throwing in his lot with SG-1. His entire worldview had been toppled in the space of an hour, yet he had risen to every challenge this journey had asked of him. She got the feeling there was a lot hidden by his amiable façade, stammer, and rambling ways.

Wiping his mouth, the Colonel said, "You take a lot of convincing, Major." He grinned toothily and looked up at that alien moon. "Claude has been gone too long. Daniel, you and Teal'c go look for him."

"Maybe he got waylaid by those camp followers," Daniel opined. He folded the cloth in which his gyro had been wrapped and tucked it back into the bag. 

The Colonel looked intrigued. "Camp followers? Are we talking ladies of easy virtue, here?" He wiggled his eyebrows at Teal'c, who did not react.

"I believe DanielJackson is referring to the prostitutes circulating through the camp, O'Neill. TiberiusClau…" Jack glared and the Jaffa amended his words, "Claudius does not seem to be one who would partake of such pleasures during a time of crisis." 

"No, you're right. He did have a mistress named Calpurnia, if I'm remembering correctly, but I don't think he'd be looking for companionship right now." Daniel was starting to look worried. "Come on, Teal'c. Let's see what we can find out."

The men disappeared amidst the tents, taking divergent paths to quarter the camp. Once they were out of earshot, the Colonel fixed Sam with a commanding look and said. "Okay, Major. Report. And I mean it, this time." He crossed his legs and leaned forward, the fire picking out the silver glints in his hair as golden.

"Sir? Daniel apprised us of the situation this afternoon." She swallowed the last of her gyro with a mouth gone dry. It was nothing she was trying to hide, nothing shameful, but she did not want to worry the Colonel for no reason. What was done was done.

"Daniel's eyes. Your face. I want a report on the physical and emotional well-being of my team, Carter." His voice was soft, but implacable.

She rubbed her cheek absently. "We're fine, Sir. Coping. Daniel's eyes have been bothering him since we woke up in that clearing without our gear and most of our clothes. He says the longer he's without his glasses, the more tired his eyes get. The more tired, the more blurry; it's a cycle." 

The Colonel grimaced, then nodded. "I understand. And the headaches?"

"Partly the same thing, as far as I can tell. The morning we retrieved you, though, there was an altercation at the inn. The blacksmith, Creopacis, accused Claudius of underpaying for a repair on our cart and was being physically threatening. Daniel tried to intervene and, um," she hesitated.

"Collected a sock in the jaw for his trouble?" the Colonel supplied.

She nodded. "Exactly, Sir. It knocked him out for a few minutes. Ever since, his headaches and, I believe, his vision has been worse. He seems to be recovering, though. The old woman said he would, in time."

"Caupona's tea must be some kind of anti-inflammatory. He's been running around all over the countryside with a concussion and never said a word." The Colonel looked up at the stars with an aggrieved expression, communicating his opinion of civilians in general and Daniel in specific to the deaf gods. "Wish Janet was here. If you tell her I said that, I'll deny it." He managed a weak smile, and looked off into the darkness in the direction Daniel had taken. Probably regretting sending him off to look for Claudius, Sam realized. 

"I was wishing for her myself when we found you, Sir. We're all recovering."

He looked at her again, his dark eyes in shadow as he built up the fire. "And what are you recovering from, Major?" he asked softly.

"An ill-advised defiance, Sir," she said with a grimace. His face demanded explanations. "After the auction, the steward who purchased me…got frisky." He'd been all hands and leers; she could still feel his clammy fingers on her skin, despite the earlier bath. "I kneed him in the groin to discourage him and collected a sock in the jaw for my trouble." Along with a few other blows, but those didn't show and were none of the Colonel's business. She did not add that the smarmy asshole had refused to give her anything to wear for hours, until they got back to the palace and the kitchen matron had shoved a bundle of blue fabric into her hands.

She'd worn that tunic until Claudius had given her the silk one this afternoon. With a shudder, she ran her hands along the slightly bumpy fabric, and was thankful. 

The Colonel's face was clearly readable in the dim light. He was furious. "I'm fine, Sir," she hastened to reassure him. "Nothing untoward has happened to any of us." Except maybe you, Jack, she did not say. Oh, hell, yes she would. "Sir, Daniel said you had killed a man at the vineyard. May I ask why?"

His fury fled, replaced by surprise. "Whoa! Good redirect, Major. You've been taking lessons from Danny." Throwing a stick at the fire, he blew out a breath and said, "It was an accident. My keeper, steward, whatever, was getting frisky." He nodded at her, taking her words. "I wasn't in a position to defend myself well, so I kicked him. He fell and broke his neck. End of story." More sticks were hurled into the fire, raising a swarm of sparks. 

The fury was not banked down completely, she realized, and she did not want to raise any demons with questions. There was at least as much untold in the Colonel's story as had been in hers, but it was not her place to go digging. Maybe Daniel would get him to open up, if he needed to. Daniel was good at that.

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Between the bright blobs that were cookfires, and the shifting blobs that were people, Daniel was feeling a little dizzy. This was getting old, fast. The whole searching thing, this whole insane week, would be much easier if he could see clearly. Still, he reflected, it was better than it had been this afternoon. The sun's glare had forced him under the tarp for several hours, trying to rest his eyes. He had not been able to see much of anything. Twilight seemed to be his best time.

He was also beginning to wish he'd taken Sam's advice and changed into some other clothes. He was, evidently, just shabby enough to be taken for a slave by any who saw him. His bare feet did not help matters; even the poorest freeborn had at least one pair of sandals to his name. Thus far he'd had a variety of responses to his questioning, most of them derisive and patronizing. The group of drinking teamsters before him looked no more promising than anyone else, but no less so either. Taking a deep breath and pasting a pleasant expression on his face, he approached the group and said, "//Excuse me. I'm looking for a man, about my height, with a limp. He's…//"

One of men rose and said sharply, "//Go away, boy. You are not welcome here. You've been bothering a lot of people. No one has seen your master, if that's who he is.//" A hard hand came out of nowhere and pushed Daniel backward. "//Take yourself back to wherever you came from and leave us alone!//" 

Clenching his fists in frustration, Daniel restrained himself. He nodded tersely and turned to go. That same hard hand stopped him, whirling him abruptly back to face his new friend. "//Is that how you take leave of your betters, boy? You have no manners.//" The man grinned evilly, looking over his shoulder at his laughing friends and sharing their humor. 

Turning back to Daniel, he said, "//Perhaps you need someone to teach you, boy. What do you say?//" The man had huge hands, rough and strong from wrestling his horses and their load along the uneven roads. Daniel could feel the bruise starting already, but he could not wrench his arm out of that grip.

Controlling his flinch, Daniel said, "//You really shouldn't try to teach a subject you're not familiar with, Sir.// And I've been hanging around Jack *way * too much." Not so far gone in drink as to miss the insult, the man scowled and drew back his free hand, gripping Daniel's arm tighter. 

"//Speciosus, there you are!//" A high feminine trill shattered the tableau and the man's grip eased a fraction. Daniel took the opportunity and wrenched his aching arm free. A fluttering, sweet smelling figure gathered him into soft arms, scolding. "//I told you never to wander off in camp, sweet. You never know what type of ruffian you'll run into.//" She winked at the burly man and gave a shimmy Daniel could feel through her layers of gauze and silk, promising nothing and everything all at once. Unbelievably, the carter seemed to melt, returning to his cronies with a laugh and a wave. She fluttered her fingers and drew Daniel away, latching herself on to his sore arm with a murmured, "//Play along.//" 

"Huh? Oh. //Sorry, Mistress. I got lost.//"

"//Silly boy!//" She scolded him roundly and drew him away from the carters, weaving through the campground and pulling him after her.

Once out of earshot, he stopped her and said, "//Thank you, Lady, but I need to....//" 

The woman looked up at him and his heart stopped. Her face was a blur, but he could see dark eyes, a broad forehead, and black strands of thick, wavy hair escaping from her red veil. Her lips would taste like summer berries and the yeasty flatbread he had never learned to make properly. 

He realized she was speaking, and had been for some moments, but his brain couldn't translate her speech into English and he realized with a sharp sadness that he'd stopped thinking in Abydonian, had stopped dreaming in the language of his wife some months ago. He listened harder, desperate to understand, and then heard the Latin, through the muddle of languages in his head. 

Daniel bent and drew his face close to hers, trying to force his aching eyes to focus. After an eternity, he was moderately successful and a strange woman looked back at him with a fearful expression on her blurred face. 

Well, he reflected, she had every right to be apprehensive. Feeling foolish, he assumed what he hoped was a reassuring expression and said, "//Forgive me, Lady. You remind me of someone I once knew.//" 

Desperately looking anywhere but at the woman who was not Sha're, he noted with surprise that the campground was a distance behind them. They stood a few yards from a small stand of tall weeping willows, lit fascinatingly from beneath by a campfire under the trailing boughs. He could make out no details, but saw moving shapes in the fey light.

Drawing his attention back, the woman said, "//Was she very beautiful?//" 

The bittersweet memory must have shown on his face, even in the dim light. "//Very, Lady.//" His guide smiled up at him, thinking he had turned her a compliment. "//Um, Lady? Where are we going?//"

"//To your friend, little one. He is waiting for you.//" Too late, alarm bells began jangling in Daniel's head, and he pulled away from the woman. "//It is not much further.//"

"//What is wrong with him, that he cannot come to us?//" Daniel asked.

The flickering light under the trees spawned another shape. It, he, called to Daniel. "//Your friend is injured. He needs help. Come this way!//"

"Ah, no. I don't think so." He turned and bolted back towards the campground, the woman's clutching grab slipping over his arm without gaining a grip. A muffled curse and pounding footsteps spurred him faster. "Jack!" Too far away, too much noise from the campground, too late. "Jack!" Too dark. The ground was uneven under his bare feet and he stumbled, staggered, and ran on, limping. 

Pain at his throat as he was jerked to a sudden stop by handful of fabric. Too slow. He pulled away with a rip of cloth, only to be brought down a few steps later in a rolling tangle. Daniel found himself face down on the ground, a heavy weight on his back. "//Give me the rope, woman!//" The man's cracked voice ground out. Alarmed, Daniel bucked, but couldn't shake his captor. He drew his arms in, underneath his body, and locked his hands together.

A dark voice, cold and evil, oozed into his ears. "//I'll dislocate those shoulders, servi.//" Daniel gasped as the man's big hands fastened to his bruised upper arm and shoulder and began applying pressure. The pain built quickly, inexorably, hard fingers digging behind the socket of his shoulder with practiced brutality.

The last thing Daniel wanted to do was lose the use of his hands, but it felt like it was going to happen one way or another. "//All right! Enough!//" He released his grip and squirmed until his arms were free.

The man laughed as he wrenched Daniel's hands back and tied them. "//Weak. Pathetic. Just like your brother. Come on, dog, get up.//"

"My…who? Ow!" Wrenched to his feet, Daniel was sent stumbling back toward the trees, away from camp. The ground was no more even on the return trip, and the spiteful, prodding shoves from behind did little for Daniel's balance. His ankle was wrenched more than once on the journey back, and he was limping worse than Claudius by the time they reached the willows.

The woman had spoken this much truth: Claudius was waiting for them in the trees. He was huddled at the base of one of the willows, gagged and tied hand and foot. "//Claudius! Are you well?//" Daniel could not see any injuries in the flickering light, but he seemed to be unharmed.

"//Your twitching friend is just fine, dog.//" The man shoved Daniel to the ground next to the Roman and pulled Claudius to his feet. "//Fetch the old soldier to me, old fool. And be quick, or this young fool will suffer for it.//" He cut the bindings on Claudius' feet. 

His eyes wide over the gag, Claudius looked down at Daniel in concern. "//I'm fine. Tell Jack…// trap. Ita?" Claudius nodded, understanding, and took off toward camp in a rolling lope that had their captor laughing.

"//Look at the camel run! Merciless gods, what a waste that man is. Why did his family not expose him at birth?//" The man crouched next to Daniel. "//Between the limp and the twitch, I'd have smothered the brat before he learned to talk.//" He took a second rope and set about tying Daniel's ankles. Better and better.

"I'll just bet you would." The woman had taken off her red veils and was building up the fading fire. Tiny flames cast dancing shadows and ruined what was left of Daniel's night vision until the fire caught anew. Then the clearing took form for him, though it remained fuzzy and out of focus. The old growth willows formed an arch over their heads, high enough that there was no fear from the fire. Two horses stomped and shifted at one side of the clearing, reeking of old sweat; other than the horses, they were alone under the masking trees. 

Desperate for information, Daniel turned his attention to his captors. The man was huge, as big as Teal'c, with the rich, olive complexion and dark eyes of most Italians. His long, black hair was pulled back into a tight rope, and his tunic was clean, if wrinkled, homespun. The woman was dressed the part of a courtesan, in silks and veils that reveled more than they hid. She was careful to keep her eyes to herself, he noted. Both of them were young, no older than twenty-five at a guess, though Daniel's eyes weren't up to many more details than that.

Noting Daniel's scrutiny, the man sneered at him and said, "//You do not know me? Did your brother not speak fondly of me, servi? I am Hastatus, brother of Harundo, whom your brother slew two nights since.//" He stood again, drawing Daniel up with him with effortless strength. "//My woman, Vispilia, I believe you have met.//" 

Without warning, he slammed Daniel against the willow's trunk and let him fall, his breath knocked from him. Vaguely, through ringing ears, he heard the man order Vispilia to fetch the magistrate. She scurried into the night, looking sadly over her shoulder at the panting man on the ground.

Daniel wondered if his shoulders were dislocated after all. The pain was terrible, and his back muscles cramped and spasmed in protest. He made no move to rise, concentrating on regaining his breath before something else happened. The pain eased after a few moments, and Daniel rolled into an awkward sitting position, the tree behind him, its stout trunk partially supporting him as he took deep, sweet breaths.

With breath, returned the ability to think. Daniel twisted his hands in the ropes, glaring up at his captor in recognition. This man was Jack's tormentor from the vineyard. The man who had been smothering O'Neill, who had beaten and starved him. 

Oblivious to the fury in his captive's eyes, Hastatus grabbed up a bag in one fist and a handful of willow branches in the other. He stooped and said, conversationally, "//Keep your eyes off of her, dog, or I'll pluck them out. I saw you talking to her, saw how you wanted her. You won't be wanting any woman for a long time once we are done here, nor, I think, will any want you. Pray your brother comes soon, servi.//" 

Daniel pushed himself back against the tree trunk, and said, "//I'm no slave. And Jack isn't my brother.//"

Pausing his menacing advance, Hastatus looked down at Daniel thoughtfully. "//You lie,//" he decided at last. "//I saw your care for him, at the vineyard. You gave him your tunica and bathed his wounds. You spoke for him to Callas, though you lied when you said you were both freeborn. The blacksmith saw you arrive, the slaves of that twitching fool, you and your blonde bitch sister. The old soldier is your brother; your brother of the heart, if nothing else. As Harundo was mine.//" 

With no warning, Hastatus forced the foul smelling sack over Daniel's head and tied it around his neck. The world was muffled, now, but he heard the swish just before fiery lines blazed across his bare arms. He rolled with a yelp and drew his legs up, turning turtle. "//Wait! Stop!//" 

"//Your brother had no mercy for Harundo. I shall have none for you.//" The improvised whip fell again, laying fire across Daniel's legs, his feet. "//Harundo was all I had in the world.//" Again, across his arms, his back. "//This is justice.//" Then there was no further speech, just pain. 

Daniel tried pleading, tried reason, stammering into the close and humid sack. Tiring quickly of this, Hastatus gagged him by shoving some of the coarse material into his mouth and tying it off with another length of rope. He took a moment to finish ripping Daniel's tunica down the back, ridding him of that bit of protection. The bunched fabric hung from his tied wrists, tangling his hands.

The sack, the gag, and the throbbing pain in his head combined to steal his breath away as Hastatus resumed his "justice"; Daniel had not the air or the energy to roll away from the unseen blows. He curled into a ball the best he could, and bit down on the gag, and endured. Air came in quick, panicked gasps, and left in muffled shouts of pain and outrage. Claudius had been gone for hours, days, by now. Jack will come soon. Jack, come soon.

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By Jack's internal clock, a gift of way too many hours standing watch, Daniel had been gone half past too long. Teal'c had come back to camp empty-handed some time ago, and there was still no sign of the Roman. "Sam, Teal'c," he said with a sigh, "we have a wayward anthropologist and a future Emperor to find." Jack hove to his feet with a heartfelt groan and offered Sam a hand up. She looked at the bandages and gave a little shake of her head, scrambling up on her own. Damn; he in no way wanted to be coddled, but Carter seemed determined. To lighten the mood, his and hers, he said, "Why does Daniel wander off like this, Carter? Is it a scientist thing?"

A not-quite insubordinate grin lit the Major's face, to Jack's relief. "Probably, Sir."

A shout and a stream of curses drew O'Neill's attention; something was disrupting the KOA Kampground. Moments later, the something collided with the side of their wagon with a pained grunt. "What the hell?" 

Sam was the first around to investigate. "Claudius!" Her voice was alarmed and dismayed and Jack saw why as he made it to the fallen man's side. The Roman was gagged and bound, though Teal'c knife took care of that in short order. 

As soon as the gag was out of his mouth, Claudius began to speak, or to try to speak. His rushed words were halted and broken, and he made an inarticulate noise of frustration. Listening intently, Teal'c shook his head and said, "I do not understand him, O'Neill." The Jaffa said something in Latin and Claudius nodded, taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself. Carter handed him a wineskin, but his head was twitching too violently to drink. "Calm. Slow, Claudius," she said. 

After a moment, the nervous twitch eased and he tried again, focusing intently on Jack this time. "C-C-Colonel. D-Daniel say t-t-t-t...," he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hitting his thigh with a frustrated fist. Sam reached out and took his hand, and he smiled a tense, tiny smile of thanks. "D-Daniel s-s-say t-trap. Has-s-status. Follow." Scrambling to unsteady feet, Claudius beckoned urgently. 

Hastatus. Well, hell. "Slow up, Claude. We can't go haring off without a plan." As much as I want to, he thought. "Who does he have with him? What's his plan?" How long has he had Daniel? 

Waiting impatiently for Teal'c to translate and vice versa, Jack took stock of their options. No weapons, no backup, no safe ground for retreat, in hostile territory, and with a hostage situation. This trip was getting better and better. If there had been a gift shop in town, he would have sent Hammond a postcard. 'Having a wonderful time; wish I wasn't here.'

"Claudius says there is a woman in addition to Hastatus. He also says Hastatus spoke of killing DanielJackson and believes there is a need for urgent rescue. I am in agreement, O'Neill." The Jaffa looked ready to chew nails, and he was standing in restless readiness that reminded Jack of a boxed racehorse, itching for the starter's gun. Carter didn't look much different. 

"Yeah, well, we need to think for a sec, if that's okay. Stand down, the pair of you." What was the man's plan? Could it be as simple as it appeared? Hastatus hadn't seemed all that smart, in his short acquaintance with the man. Vicious and sadistic, but not smart. "Okay. We strike now, retrieve Daniel, and retreat. We'll break camp now and move the cart to the road. When we have Daniel, we'll retreat to that point and head south. Claudius will remain with the wagon, ready to roll."

The Roman stammered a protest, which needed no translation. "Sorry, Claude. You're needed more elsewhere." The limp would slow them down, if it came to running. He could see by the look on Claudius' face that he had guessed the real reason and was more than a little irritated with O'Neill. Oh well, tough nookies.

"Right. Let's move."

In a matter of minutes, camp was packed up, the horses were hitched, and the wagon was pointed south on the outgoing road. "Okay, Claudius. Which way to Danny?"

Teal'c said, "He has told me where DanielJackson is being held, O'Neill. Let us go." Without waiting, the restless Jaffa took of north, leaving O'Neill and Carter to scramble to keep up.

They passed quickly through the campground, cutting to the east of where Claudius had said Hastatus was holding Daniel. No need to emerge backlit and give up their surprise. The cover was sporadic, with willows and the occasional young oak tree dotting the landscape before merging with the thicker growth in the foothills. Sam stumbled once, cursing the long skirt of the stolla she was wearing, and Jack grinned in the dark. Well, he was tired of wearing a skirt too, but at least his was short enough he could move.

Weaving through the trees, they finally saw their destination. A group of old willows, a small campfire, and a pale, huddled figure on the ground. Hastatus, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Jack motioned for the others to stop, and he fell into a crouch. His back protested, and he almost fell altogether as the overtired muscles spasmed painfully, but Teal'c's strong hand held him up. He nodded a thank you, and studied the clearing.

They were close enough to see into the clearing, without seeing many details. Two horses, one way too still linguist, one campfire. That was it. No sadistic asshole and no woman. "They have to be around there somewhere," he muttered. 

Carter patted his shoulder and pointed into the darkness outside the campfires' glow. A dark shape was crouched in the trees, waiting. 

O'Neill nodded, pointed Sam north and Teal'c' south, indicating he would draw the hostile's attention while they took him out at his six. With a nod, they took off through the trees, silent as wraiths. 

A mental hundred count later, O'Neill stood and walked toward the clearing. "Hastatus! Come out, come out, wherever you are! Olly olly oxen kree!" He had the man in the corner of his eye, but Jack's attention was focused on Daniel. As he drew near enough to make out details, he had a hard time keeping the majority of his mind focused on the mission. 

He'd beaten him, the bastard. Stripped him down to his loincloth, tied him up, tied a god damn bag over his head and beaten him until he was unconscious. There were red welts all over Daniel's torso and over what Jack could see of his arms. Bruises peppered his legs and ribs. And he was so still. Only the barely perceptible rise and fall of his livid back told Jack that Daniel still breathed.

"Did you have to do this, Hastatus?" Jack yelled into the night, his throat tight with anger and not a little fear. If only Daniel would move, twitch, anything.

The man in the corner of his eye stood, finally. Taking hold of a long branch, he stepped up behind Jack and raised it high. 

He never knew what hit him. Teal'c took him high, Carter went low, and they had him secured before you could say, "Look out, there's a pissed Jaffa and a seriously ticked off Major behind you."

"Good job kids. Let's get Daniel and get the hell out of here."

That's when the Magistrate showed up, along with about fifteen oversized deputies.

Hastatus looked up at the expression on Jack's face and started laughing.

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"//Wha-at do you mean, a t-t-trap?//" Claudius clambered down off of the wagon. Vispilia, Hastatus' woman, clutched her veil close around her scarred face.

"//After you left, my man sent me for the village consul and the magistrate. We were here ahead of you and the consul knows what Hastatus has told him. He will come with many men if you do not warn your friends and flee now!//" She looked fearfully over her shoulder, as though by saying her man's name he would appear. By the bruises, she had reason to fear, Claudius thought. "//He means for you all to be taken into custody, and executed. Ever since Harundo was killed, bless the day, he's been a madman. Please, you must warn your friends!//"

He looked back at the wagon, the horses ready to go, and knew he couldn't leave it. The horses would be stolen and they'd never make it to Ponza. Seeing his reluctance, she said, "//I'll stay with your wagon. Worry not.//" She smiled then, an amazingly gentle grin in her marred face. "//Go on, now.//"

Suspicious of her ready offer, Claudius said, "//Why are you helping us? You are Hastatus' c-c-creature. Wha-at do you gain?//"

She covered her face again, the veil turning a woman scarred by mischance into a beauty. It looked like a burn, an old one, and covered the right side of her face from brow to chin. She had been breathtaking once, though, he could tell. With a calm, sure voice she said, "//Your friend looked upon my face, unveiled, and called it beautiful. And the old soldier killed Harundo. For these things, I gladly betray Hastatus. Quickly, now, before the trap is sprung.//"

Cursing his slow legs, his slow wit, and his bad luck, Claudius ran. He dodged through the thickening trees, stumbling now and again. At least, this time his hands were free. His body still ached from the tumbles he had taken on his trip out. He only hoped he'd be in time.

Slowing his steps as he approached the clearing, he realized he wasn't. There was far too much activity. He ventured closer, hiding behind a stand of brush, and looked for his companions. After a few moments, he spotted them. 

The Colonel and Sam were sitting close to Daniel, who was upright, but looking much the worse for wear. His hair was damp and spiky and he seemed to be having trouble keeping his eyes open. Someone had propped him against a tree and he was managing to stay sitting up, mostly. The dark warrior sat nearby, listening and noting everything that happened around them.

They were not alone, unfortunately. The clearing was crowded with men. The four of them, lined up in a row, each had a keeper. Then there was the Magistrate, the Consul, Hastatus, a few more heavies standing guard, and the horses. All in all, it was quite a little gathering. A noisy one, too, as they were all talking at once. At least he did not have to worry about being heard, Claudius reflected, but, by all the gods, now what? 

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Jack glanced over at Teal'c, who was listening intently, and knew that he'd get a report at first opportunity. At the moment, he and Sam were being ignored, so he edged closer to where Daniel lay on the ground and began picking at the ropes that held that damn sack on his head. 

At his touch, Daniel pulled away, mumbling and clenching his hands. "Easy, Danny. It's me." Jack had to keep his voice low. He wasn't sure how much Daniel heard, through the sack and through his discomfort, so he kept up a steady stream of chatter while he untied the ropes at neck, wrist, and ankle. 

At first, Daniel flinched with each touch, but he calmed as Jack worked. The stubborn knot that held the sack in place finally gave and he whipped the coarse bag off of Daniel's head. He coughed and spat, taking deep breaths. His eyes were wide and wild, and Jack held up his hands and said, "It's ok, Danny. Only me." 

Daniel closed his eyes against the brightness of the firelight, then squinted up at Jack and said in a hoarse voice, "who…jack? dark." He reached up and touched Jack's face. O'Neill noted the bruised hands with dismay. The willow lash had fallen there repeatedly, the welting blows transformed to bruises by the bundled fabric of his torn tunic. Damn, the kid looked tired. His hair was all sweaty and sticking up like cactus spikes, and his face was pale. Catching the fumbling hand, he gave it a careful pat and looked over Daniel's head into Carter's frightened eyes. 

Mustering a cheerful tone, he said, "Yeah, the gang's all here, Danny-boy. You okay?" Dumb question, he chided himself. Of course he's not okay. Nevertheless, the kid was nodding and trying to sit up. Sam helped, easing him out of his protective huddle.

"Fine, Jack. Can we go home, now?" He sat up straighter and rubbed his wrists, leaning against the tree for support, then jerking forward with a pained grimace as the rough bark abraded his welts. Jack shook out the ripped tunic and draped it over his shoulders, to keep out the growing night chill. Morning chill; gray-rose light was beginning to outshine the campfire as the sun topped the low mountains to the east. True dawn would not be for an hour or more, at a guess, but the night was definitely over.

"Um…not just yet. Thought we might stick it out here for a while. Don't want our hosts to think we're not enjoying the party."

"Hosts?" To Jack's profound relief, Daniel opened his eyes and looked, well squinted, around. "Oh. Hosts. I see. Wouldn't want to seem…" 

"…impolite?" Carter supplied.

"Exactly." With a tired sigh, Daniel dropped his head to his hands and said, "Wake me when it's time to go, okay Jack?"

Their captors were ignoring them, still working out the pecking order, it looked like. All to the good. "Can you run, Danny?"

Not expending the energy to sit up, Daniel turned his head and looked up at Jack. "If I have to. I might need some help," he conceded after a moment's thought. His voice sounded stronger, Jack noted with hope. Stretching out one foot into the light, Daniel contemplated the bruises around his ankle and the welts on the soles. Catching Jack's expression, he said, "I'll be fine, Jack. I'll try not to slow you down." 

"Oh, jeeze, Danny. What happened to your feet?" 

Drawing in his legs again, Daniel said, "He could reach 'em. And I fell some. I'll be fine, Jack." That was that, apparently. Just more reasons for Hastatus not to live, in Jack's book.

Okay, running was a maybe, but they had to try, before someone got the idea to tie them up again. "Carter, we make a break for it, head to the wagon, and jackrabbit to Ponza as fast as possible. Whoever makes it to the wagon. Remember, the maps are there."

The Major made a face like she was going to object and Jack held up a hand. "Aaah! I know. No one is left behind." He looked Carter sternly in the eye. "Neither Daniel nor I are in the best of shape right now, Major. As a contingency plan for one of us falling behind, whoever makes it out heads for Ponza. By Daniel's estimate, it's no more than two days away; less if you hustle. It's reasonable to assume that whoever made this place has some sort of advanced tech, yes?"

Carter closed her mouth and nodded thoughtfully, if reluctantly. "Yes, Sir. I see where you 're going. We get to Ponza and come back with whatever weapons we find there. We might even find our gear; it has to be somewhere, and it's likely to be wherever the architects of this place have set up their 'Gate. But I'd rather everyone made it, so no rescue is necessary."

"Well, duh! Look sharp for our opportunity, kids."

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

Look sharp, Jack says. Can't look at anything sharp. Daniel laughed; giggled really, but only a gig or two. Wondering what the singular for giggle was, Daniel recognized the fatigue and eminent hysteria, and decided it was preferable to moaning about, reflecting on his hurts, and wondering when the knives were coming out. 

Despite his fears, though, the distraction came soon, and caught everyone by surprise. With a rattle of drums and a high, melodic double flute playing a merry tune, a gaggle of giggling ladies entered the clearing. They were dancing to the flutist's melody and playing up to one and all with seductive hip wiggles and come-hither coaxings. They seemed to be the same ladies who Sam had said were eyeing him earlier. Surely, he thought with a fey turn, it must be past their bedtime. 

The cloaked flutist looked vaguely familiar, but it was hard to tell in the early morning light. He capered with a jerking humor that had the yawning deputies grinning. The ladies danced amidst the guards, hanging on them in laughing armfuls, and teasing the Magistrate. 

Daniel kept his gaze fixed on Jack for his cue. Jack was on one arm and Sam was on the other. The pulled him to his feet suddenly and then they were running through the trees, shouting men behind them, though not too close. The flutist followed, his limping run identifying him immediately. "The wagon!" Jack said, supporting Daniel as they ran.

Sam and Teal'c were well ahead, were on the wagon before Jack and Daniel cleared the tree line. Then they were falling together, a sharp pain across Daniel's shin and the world fragmented by a stout net falling over them both. Jack, beside him, yelled "Gogogo!" And Sam and Teal'c cut the traces on the horses and were kicking them to a gallop, headed south. Then the deputies were pulling them up, pulling off the net, tying their hands, pushing them toward the village. "Getting tired of being tied up, here," Jack said unhappily.

Every step Daniel took was like walking on knives, and warmth trickled down his shin where the tripwire had caught him. Jack was at his side, face set and grim. "Sorry, Jack."

He thought Jack looked at him in surprise, but couldn't be sure. "Nothing to be sorry for, Daniel. I didn't see it either, and my eyes are way better than yours are, right now." They stumbled along, the world waking up around them with startled looks and the song of an incongruous lark, twittering in the branches of a fig tree. "This is my fault, anyway."

"Tace!" Hastatus grinned as Jack glared at him. 

"You know, I still don't understand a word you're saying, you sadistic jerk." 

This filtered through Daniel's fatigue and he said, "Shut up."

"Huh?" Jack sounded surprised, and a little hurt.

"He's saying 'Shut up'. Tace."

Limping along beside them, Claudius hid a smile. The three of them were limping, actually. Almost like a chorus line. Daniel stifled another gig.

"I'd been wondering. Figured it out in context, back on the second day, but…."

A sharp blow knocked Jack's head forward with another curt, "Tace!" Jack glared over his shoulder, then fixed his eyes on the ground. Out of the corner of his mouth, he said, "Daniel, how do you say 'bite me' in Latin?"

"At spes non fracta. Or, literally, morsus me. But he wouldn't understand," Daniel murmured back.

"Hope not broke?" Claudius asked curiously. 

Daniel was impressed. "You're really coming along with the English, Claudius." He heard the whisper of wind as Hastatus' hand flew at his head and ducked at the last moment. "I know, I know. Tace. //Go copulate with a donkey, you son of a whore.//"

Claudius gasped and Jack looked at him in amazement. "I didn't understand that, but it sounded damn impressive." Looking back over his shoulder again, Hastatus looked none too pleased. "I think you said a little much there, Daniel."

"Too late. We're here. He can't touch us, now," Daniel replied with some satisfaction.

'Here' was the hulking curia housing the courts and the offices of the local magistrate. The three were pushed through the door and down an open and airy hallway, lined with busts of the royal family. "Hey, there's you, Claudius!" Jack noted as they were hustled past.

"//I never liked that c-carving,//" Claudius said, looking back at the bust. "//It makes me look like I have a w-w-weak chin.//" A crack in the floor caught his sandal and he stumbled, knocking into Daniel. "//Sorry.//" 

They were led through a door and down another hallway to some stairs, leading down. A trio of crude doors stood in a line at the bottom, light filtering in through a narrow window high in the wall. Sodden snores came from behind one of the stout doors, so the deputies split them up, Daniel and Jack in one cell and Claudius in the other. 

The heavy doors were bolted securely, but the room wasn't dark. Another small, high window let in light and air. "Hey, Claudie! Can you hear me?" Jack shouted up at the open window, hoping a similar one opened into the Roman's cell.

Faintly, Daniel heard, "//Daniel, tell your f-friend that my name is C-C-Claudius. Not Claude or Claudie. And that I c-cannot understand him.//" Dutifully, he translated, earning a chuckle from O'Neill.

"Yeah, well, I don't get him either."

The room was tiny, with a dirt floor and heavy stone walls. There was a bench along each wall, the wood old and splintered, with a thin mattress that reeked of sweat and urine. "Drunk tank," Daniel realized. "This little village isn't really big enough for a prison. Probably this is just their version of a holding cell." He turned and presented his bound wrists to Jack. "Untie me?" 

With a grunt, Jack turned and began fumbling with the knotted rope. Hastatus had outdone himself, really, judging by O'Neill's muttered curses and his own numbing digits. After a few minutes struggle, he was shaking out his hands and wincing as the circulation returned. "That jerk really has it in for you, doesn't he?"

Jack waited patiently until Daniel was at least partially recovered, then turned and presented his hands. "Poor Claudie. Maybe the surly burleys untied him before they shoved him next door." Daniel pulled him into the light streaming down from their window and started picking at his knots. 

"I don't think I can do this, Jack," he said after a few minutes fumbling. "It's all one big knot. I can't see the individual strands." With a wince, he knelt on the dirt floor and brought his face within inches of O'Neill's bound hands. Resolutely, he started picking again, his long fingers teasing out the coarse rope loops one by one. "So what do we do now?"

"We wait. We also stall, try to escape, and other wise make infernal nuisances of ourselves. Any luck back there?"

"Just about. Hang on." With a jerk, the last knot came loose and Jack was free. The bandages around his wrists had protected them from the worst of the coarse rope, but they needed to be changed now. Unfortunately, there was nothing with which to replace them. Stifling a groan, Daniel stood, then staggered, suddenly light-headed.

A firm hand caught him and guided him to the filthy bench. "Whoa, big fella. Easy now." Gentle fingers pried up his eyelids, one then the other. "Got some pretty even pupils there. Good. How's the head?" Jack's face swam before him, melting in and out of focus as he tried to force his eyes to behave. 

"Better than my back right now. Both pretty sore." Truth be told, he was sore all over. Feet to head, now. It felt good to just sit for awhile, even if it was a little chilly. The cool damp of the wall felt good on his inflamed back. "Did you grab my shirt, by any chance? The loincloth look is so last week."

"Sorry, Danny. They didn't give me a chance." There was a rustle of fabric and then a warm bundle of cloth was pressed into his hands. "Put that on."

Touched, and a little surprised, Daniel looked down at the tunica. "Jack, no. I'm fine. There's no need…."

"That mattress is filthy. We don't have access to antibiotics until Sam and Teal'c get back and pull us out of here. I don't want those welts to get infected. This is an order, Daniel." Jack was going all out, he thought with a smile. Gruff, comanderly voice, logical argument. 

Still, he felt obligated to say, "I'm a civilian, Jack." 

There was a short pause, and he tried, really tried to read Jack's face. When he succeeded, he decided he was better off not knowing. Guilt and grief fought on that battlefield, and guilt was winning. "Hey, Jack? Stop it." The tunic was still warm from Jack's bodyheat as Daniel slipped it over his head. "Whatever you're thinking, cut it out. You couldn't have gotten to me faster, couldn't have made me run faster, couldn't have foreseen all those really *big * guys or the tripwire. The only thing you maybe could have done different was killing Harundo. Or choosing to come here in the first place.

"Why did you kill Harundo, by the way? Hastatus never said. I assumed it was self-defense."

Silence from his cellmate. "It was self-defense, right?"

The silence lengthened. Jack withdrew and sat on the bench opposite Daniel, drawing up his legs and hugging his knees loosely. Finally, he answered, "Kinda."

"Kinda?" Daniel drew his own legs up, mirroring Jack. At that distance, he had no hope of reading O'Neill's face, so he shut his eyes and lay down on his side on the odorous mattress, pillowing his head on his arm and curling up his legs to conserve body heat. "Care to define 'kinda' for me?"

Irritably, Jack said, "You're the linguist, Daniel."

"Yes," he agreed amiably, "and my knowledge of O'Neillese has expanded amazingly over the years. All of my source books, however, are back on base. All I have is my primary source. Luckily for me, he speaks the language himself. So give."

"For crying out loud."

"That's not an answer," Daniel said in an annoyingly sing-song voice. He was getting a little worried now, and sometimes Jack had to be goaded into talking. Jack could be secretive, but this was edging into being evasive. Daniel let the silence build, giving his friend time. 

The minutes passed. The combination of fatigue and being allowed to lie still for a few minutes on a surface that was not moving nor consisting of dirt almost insured that Daniel would drop off. He was darn close to that when Jack said, very softly, "He was going to rape me, Danny."

Oh. Oh, damn. His eyes still shut, Daniel just nodded, knowing that everything he was feeling was showing in his face. "Go on." Lance the boil, Jack.

More clotted silence, then the words came tumbling slowly out, limping to a damned cadence. "I was tied to the ceiling and my legs were killing me from stomping on these fucking grapes all day. Harundo left me there, the little bastard. Couldn't sit down, couldn't lie down. He came in, late, and he untied my loincloth and tied my hands and he started fondling me damn it and leering at me and he wouldn't leave me alone so I kicked him."

"Good for you." There was a longer pause. "So how did he die?"

"We were up on this pressing platform where I'd been stomping grapes. He fell off. Broke his neck. Didn't mean to do it, but I wasn't too sad about it either."

One corner of Daniel's mouth twitched up, wryly. "I should say not."

Shocked silence from the O'Neill side of the cell, then a soft huff of laughter. "Heh. Yeah. So, anyway, his brother has it in for me now. You too, unfortunately, though I don't really understand why."

The bench was hard, the mattress thin, and there was no way Daniel was going to get comfortable. He was too damn sore. Sitting up, he winced and stretched hesitantly. His skin felt tight, and his ribs ached. "He thinks I'm your brother." Looking up at the window, he could see shadows passing. 

"Why would he think that? Unless you gave him the idea."

Daniel stood and dragged his bench over to the narrow window. "That's how we got you out. Told Callas you were my brother, and cracked in the head." 

"Gee, thanks."

"Hey, it worked. Don't knock success, however temporary your liberty turned out to be."

"So what's so special about being your brother?"

Daniel climbed up and stood on tiptoe, trying to see out. "Claudius said freeborn citizens couldn't be sold legally, under most circumstances, so he had to let you go. I dressed up in a good tunic and toga and lied my ass off. It worked too." Nothing but feet, human and animal, passing in front of the building. He turned and sat, drawing his swollen ankle up on the bench.

"See anything?"

"Not a lot. I hope Sam and Teal'c remember to bring my glasses, when they come back." He rubbed his eyes, palming them fiercely and wishing for Caupona's tea.

"How's the head?"

Daniel peered through the blur, wondering why Jack was asking again. It was kind of nice, though, having someone worried for his well-being. "Hurts a bit," he admitted at last. "I think I got a little hypoxic. Getting better, though." Voices distracted him, coming from over his head. "Shhh. Listen." He scrambled up again, holding his side, and tilted his ear up.

Claudius, and a woman. Talking in low, urgent tones.

"//…has gone after the master. They'll be back tonight and mean to hold court tomorrow, when the district censor arrives. Why did you not go when I warned you?//"

"//I had to f-free my friends. Wha-at will they d-do n-now?//"

"//Hastatus wants them dead. The master is likewise incensed against them. Rumor passed us on the road of a battle in the vineyard, and the master is sure to want the old soldier's life for inciting the revolt. Your Daniel's as well.//"

"//He is n-not 'my D-Daniel'. He is a f-freeman. A citizen.//"

"//Then he will be spared the cross, at least. They will let him take his own life. I fear his brother will not be so lucky.//"

Alarmed, Daniel almost fell from his perch. "What?!"

There was a flutter of red, and the woman made a sound of dismay. "//Oh! You are here!//" She knelt before Daniel's window and pushed a bundle through. "//It is not much. I am sorry. I must go.//"

"//Wait!//" He called after, but she was already gone. The bundle in his arms was heavy, but not as heavy as his thoughts. 'Spared the cross?' That was an aspect of Roman culture he had not considered even remotely wanting to study further. He had known it was a practice here by the stipes standing along the roadways of the towns through which they had passed yesterday, and the ones outside of Rome. Thankfully, for his stomach and for Sam's peace of mind, none of them had been in use at the time. It had been a distant danger, if they failed to convince Callas of their story, but Daniel had never really considered it seriously.

If what Vispilia said was true, it would be Jack who was…. His mind refused to finish the thought. Just a mental image. He looked over at Jack, curled up on his bench, bruised and sunburnt, and just couldn't wrap his mind around it. It was too much, suddenly. Everything, this whole mission was just too much. "One damned thing after another."

"What?" Jack asked. "What was all that about?"

"We've got to get out of here, Jack. Now. Somehow." Daniel knew he sounded a little crazy. He felt a little crazy. Hysteria was one blink away. The pain in his feet flared up as he stood, but he had to move, had to pace. "Think of a way, Jack. Colonel. You can do it. Get us out of here."

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

He's losing it. I'm watching Danny lose it, Jack thought. "Um, Daniel? Kinda stuck right now. Big door and lil' bitty window."

He chopped his hand down, cutting Jack off. "I know that. I don't care. Think of something." The bundle in his arms was forgotten. He hugged it to his chest and paced the length of the tiny room, then turned and stalked back. "We have to go."

"Daniel," Jack said, trying for his attention. It didn't work. Danny turned and took the five steps needed to bring him to the door. "Daniel." Nothing. Turn, five steps, turn. "Daniel!" Jack stood and interposed his body, catching the agitated anthropologist by the shoulders.

"WHAT?!"

O'Neill just stood there, holding Daniel's arms, feeling the tremors begin, keeping his eyes focused on Daniel's vague, darting, blue gaze.

Slowly, the panic faded from those eyes, and Daniel let himself be led to a bench. Jack kept an arm around his shoulders, the shudders there faint but perceptible. Whatever it was, it had the kid spooked, but good. Gently, firmly, he eased the package from Daniel's arms and set it down on the bench. "What did she say, Daniel?" The tremors grew more noticeable, and he gave those broad shoulders a little squeeze.

Jack was getting spooked himself. Daniel did not frighten easily. Hell, Jackson had been through a lot of shit in his life, a lot of loss and a lot of scary situations. Had come out of it a strong, determined fighter. When Daniel was afraid, Jack had realized long ago, he usually had a damn good reason.

"There's going to be a trial, Jack. Apparently, you incited a revolt, back at the vineyard." 

Feeling obscurely pleased, Jack said, "Hey, not such a bad thing. I am Spartacus," he quoted with a grin.

The tremors under his arm turned into a twitch and Daniel pulled away. "Don't joke, Jack. Do you remember what happened to Spartacus?"

A vivid memory from his movie-going childhood. The road to Rome, lined with crucifixes and dying men. "Oh."

"Oh, is right." The worst having been said, or at least strongly implied, Daniel seemed to collapse, slumping against Jack's side. O'Neill gathered him up awkwardly, but not grudgingly. He needed the nearness, too. This world was deadly, and every hand was turned against them, it seemed. "I'm the lucky one," Daniel muttered blearily. "I get to open a vein." He laughed once, grimly. "The joys of citizenship."

Jack tightened his arm around the huddled, suddenly much younger man, and dropped his cheek to rest against the top of Daniel's head. "We'll get out of here before that happens, Daniel. I promise. All we have to do is stall 'em until Carter and Teal'c get back."

They sat like that for a time, drawing comfort in shared silence. Finally, though, Daniel said, "Uh, Jack? Are we cuddling here?" He smiled shyly and looked up at O'Neill's expression of fake outrage.

"Us? Cuddling? I'm sure there's an Air Force regulation or two against it." Feeling not at all uncomfortable, despite his acting, Jack helped Daniel to sit up. "So, what's in the package?"

"Package?" Daniel looked around myopically. "Oh, the package! I don't know." He picked it up and unwrapped it carefully, feeling its contents shift. "Hey, here's a shirt for you, Jack." He passed over the rumpled linen tunic, which O'Neill gratefully pulled on. "Couple of blankets, some dried fruit and a water-skin. Hey, breakfast!" He popped a bit of leathery apricot in his mouth and chewed in delight. "They're spiced; try one."

Amazing. Terrified and in despair one moment and relishing fruit roll ups the next. "Hand 'em over, Danny-boy. Got any dried peaches?"

"There's raisins."

Scowling, Jack grumbled, "I draw the line at anything even remotely resembling grapes. Even dried up ones." He looked into the open package and found another bundle. Plucking it out he opened it and found rolls of clean fabric and a small pot of white, greasy, aromatic salve. "Your girlfriend really likes you, Daniel. Take off your shirt."

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

The horses' hooves pounded a staccato rhythm on the baked ground. Sam crouched low over the mare's bare back and held on with her knees like her Mom had taught her, back when Dad was based in Montana. She'd been nine, and horse mad, she remembered. Now she blessed those wonderful hours with the instructors as she held onto the remains of the wagon harness for dear life and let the mare stretch her legs in a ground-eating gallop.

She'd left the main road just outside the village, on the chance that they'd be followed. Since then, she'd been trusting the sun and Teal'c's sense of direction to keep them going southward. Sooner or later, they'd hit the coast, then ride east to Terracina and find a boat to either hire or steal. She just hoped Teal'c could sail. 

"MajorCarter!" Teal'c called from behind her. "Should we not turn back?" 

Surprised, Sam pulled the mare to a trot, then to a walk. "No. Why do you ask?" Slowing was a good idea, though. The horses needed to rest. They'd been running for the better part of an hour and she could feel the heaving muscles of the mare's trunk under her bare legs. 

"We should return and aid O'Neill, DanielJackson, and Claudius."

"We will." She slid off of the mare's sweaty back and grabbed up a handful of grass, rubbing the animal down as it stamped in the cool morning air. "The Colonel wanted us to go on to Ponza and bring back whatever help we could. We're outnumbered here, Teal'c." 

The grass simply wasn't doing the trick. She threw it down and looked around for an alternative. The morning breeze whipped the lengths of silk around her legs, almost tripping her. "I've had about enough of this, too." Looking down at her too-long tunic, Sam decided to kill two birds with one stone. "Do you still have that knife?"

Teal'c nodded, not dismounting. 

"May I borrow it? And come down for a while. Your horse is tired."

After a moment, the Jaffa pulled his knife and handed it, hilt first, to Sam. "Thanks."

"You are welcome." Looking impatiently over his shoulder back the way they had come, he said, "I do not feel this is wise. Splitting our forces weakens us." Still, he brought his leg over the bay's broad back and slid to the ground.

"Colonel O'Neill's orders. And, I can understand them, Teal'c. Without weapons of some kind, we can't hope to overcome those kinds of odds. Fifteen to five, with two injured on our side, and that was last night. More will be on the way." 

"Nevertheless. It is not right to abandon the others. I will return to the village."

"Like hell you will!" Sam glared up at the tall man. "We're going to Ponza and we're going to find our gear or something to help the Colonel and then we're going to high-tail it back and get them out of there, unless they get free first, which is a real possibility. Get me?"

"MajorCarter…."

"The next words out of your mouth had better be 'I get you, Ma'am,' or the Jaffa equivalent thereof."

Teal'c shut his mouth with a snap, looking down at Sam in surprise. 

Well, at least she had his attention. Forcing herself to speak calmly, persuasively, she said, "Teal'c, if you go back now, you might take out a few of those men. You might even make it to wherever they're holding the Colonel and Daniel. But you're going to have to kill to do it, and with your bare hands. Those men had weapons. We don't. They had the advantage of numbers and ground. We don't. Our only advantage lies in the fact that we know the truth about this place, and where to go to get help. Or at least the firepower needed to make an impression on the yokels. And, if the 'Gate is on Ponza like Daniel says, we can bring reinforcements."

She couldn't hope to stop him physically, if her argument had failed. To her great relief, after a few moments of mental nail biting on her part, he inclined his head in agreement. "I get you, MajorCarter. Kel'cha." 

Allowing herself a quick nod of satisfaction, she turned her attention to the next thing that was causing aggravation. Her floor length tunic, which was almost impossible to manage on horseback, needed some adjustment. 

With a purely mental wince, and with a heartfelt apology to the weavers, she cut into the beautiful silk tunic at just above knee height and tore it evenly around. "Much better. I can ride now." She cut two large squares from the yardage she had in her hand and handed one to Teal'c. "Wipe the sweat off. Go with the grain of the coat, rather than against it." She demonstrated, drawing the fabric firmly over the black hide of her mare. It leaned into her touch, rumbling appreciatively.

After a moment watching her, Teal'c followed suit. "These are strange animals." The bay stamped and whikered, startling him, and Sam hid a smile.

"Don't listen to him, Fidelis," she said to her mount. The black ears swiveled to her and the mare blew out a breath. "Let them graze for a bit, then we need to find water. After that, we hit the road." Sam bent and lifted a hoof, checking for splits or stones. 

"There is no road here, MajorCarter." Teal'c was rubbing down the bay with strong, sure strokes. "And if we were to find one, and then hit it, would that not be painful?"

Hoof in hand, Sam looked up at the impassive face and suspected her chain had just been yanked. No clues in that poker face, though. She chose to answer the comment by not answering. "Check the hooves, like I'm doing. Put pressure behind the knee and lift up on the hoof, then look for cracks or stones. We don't want them going lame."

They spent about a half-hour letting the horses graze and rest. "When we get to a town, we should get some blankets or something to put between the horses and us." Finding a convenient log, she clambered gracelessly onto the mare and noted the sun's position. "Let's go." The race south began again.

The day passed like that, riding and resting in turns. Despite her words to Teal'c, Sam couldn't help but feel she was riding in the wrong direction. Each mile farther from her team was harder to accept, yet she had to go on. Her words to Teal'c had been nothing but the truth. Still, she couldn't help wishing for her Triumph. Or a tel'tac. Or her sidearm. 

If wishes were horses, she thought, topping a hill, and looked with relief at the distant blue of the sea. Guiding the mare to the left, she put the sea at their right and hoped they were not too far west. Sam urged the mare faster, the sun now to her right and skimming the waves. She had hoped to make Terracina by nightfall and it looked like that might just happen. 

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

A muffled noise in the corridor outside startled Jack awake. He rubbed his eyes, noting that Daniel was still asleep, sprawled over the bench on his stomach. The light was different and O'Neill wondered how much time had passed. He hadn't meant to sleep, but there really wasn't much else to do in the little cell. 

Craning his neck, he could see a small sliver of sky through the window. It looked like late afternoon, early evening by the light. Sam and Teal'c should be a fair ways toward Panzer; at the very least, they were far from here, which suited Jack nicely. 

The heavy wooden door swung open with a loud creak. Jack scrambled to his feet and faced the crowd of people at the door, Daniel at his back. Masking his apprehension with anger and scorn, he said, "Don't you people ever knock?" 

Next moment, he found himself pinioned against the wall by two big guys with bad breath, his arm twisted high up on his back. He tried pushing back, but they just twisted his arm up higher, making him stand on tiptoe to escape the pain. "Hey! Ow! Okay! I'm not movin'."

Daniel had awakened at the scuffle and was sitting on the bench, holding very still. Jack craned his neck and watched as a lithe young man stalked into the room, followed by Claudius and a man in a green tunic and toga, who looked vaguely familiar. Claudius looked very uncomfortable, and stood silently at the back of the crowd. Jack wondered what the hell he was doing here. Was he free? Were they? The hand on his screaming wrist and shoulder said otherwise.

The youth stood before Daniel and said something in a teasing tone of voice. The man in the toga answered him gruffly and nodded at O'Neill. The vineyard, he remembered. The jerk in the litter, and then on the hill. His 'master.' Jack decided to ignore the man and turned his head painfully to focus on Daniel.

The young man was reaching out and trailing his hand through Daniel's hair in a leering caress. With a wrench of his head, Daniel drew away. He lowered his eyes and murmured something that made the man laugh. Then, like a striking snake, he drew his belt knife and held it to Daniel's throat, hissing a stream of harsh words into his ear. 

Alarmed, Jack threw his weight backward, but he was pinioned tightly. They were taking no chances. He swore at the guards and they cuffed the back of his head, bouncing it off the wall to silence him. Undaunted, he kicked backward and connected with something soft. The guard on his right grunted; the one on his left jabbed a hard fist into his kidneys and kicked the back of his knee. Stunned, silenced, winded with the pain in his side, Jack felt his knees buckle. The hard hands would not let him fall, though. He was pinned to the wall like a damned bug.

Claudius stepped forward, then, and laid his hand on the youth's arm. He spoke quickly, haltingly and the knife fell away. The youth sneered down at Daniel and turned and flounced out. Claudius smiled apologetically and followed, leaving the man in the toga and the two surly burleys behind.

At a word, the thugs released Jack, and he half fell, half sat on the bench, clutching his aching shoulder. The man in the toga stood over Jack, hatred radiating off of the man like a fever. He spoke not a word, but handed Jack a heavy pouch. "Fatum tui. Aspicio."

"Daniel?"

Quietly, Daniel said, "He says it's your fate. What is it, Jack?"

With his stiff fingers, O'Neill opened the stiff leather pouch and drew out four iron spikes, each about eight inches long. "What the hell?" He looked up at the grimly smiling man, who plucked the pouch from his nerveless hands and tucked it into a fold of his toga. 

"Cras, fugitivus," he said, and strolled out, followed by the two guards. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving two shaken men in the cell.

"What the hell was all that about?" Jack demanded. The spikes had made his skin crawl, holding them. There had been stains on them that he did not think were rust. He wiped his hands on his shirt, trying to rid himself of the sensation, but it didn't help. "Who was that little guy with the knife? What was he saying to you?"

"What was in the pouch, Jack?" Daniel's voice was soft, and a little scared. "He said it was your fate, that something would happen tomorrow."

"Well, that trial thing, for one, right?" Jack was really wishing for a bar of lava and some good, hot water. Some of the red flakes had gotten under his nails. Distracted, he picked at them. "What was all the talking? I need translations, Daniel."

Stubbornly, Daniel said, "The pouch, Jack." 

Anger flared, fear close behind it. "Daniel, there's times I really wish I could give you orders!" He glared at the younger man, who glared defiantly back at a point just over Jack's shoulder. 

O'Neill's anger fled, replaced by a sort of sick dread. "Daniel? You okay?"

Wide blue eyes flicked around the room, but did not meet his. "You're changing the subject, Jack." He was sitting tensely, perched on the edge of the bench. Even in the dimming light, Jack could see the tension in his limbs, the white knuckled grip on the bench. 

"Never mind the damn pouch, Danny. Have your eyes gotten worse?"

"No," he said quickly. "I'm fine. Things are a little blurrier, and the darker it gets, the less I can see. Nothing new. To answer your question, the kid who came in is Gaius, also known as Caligula. He identified me as a slave of the imperial family, and asked me where Sam was. When I didn't tell him, he got testy." He was changing the subject; O'Neill had a feeling he was a hell of a long way from being fine. Still, if that was how he needed to cope, Jack was prepared to cut the man some slack. 

He kept his voice light and said, "Testy, huh? What happens when he gets pissed?"

"You don't want to know," Daniel said grimly. "The other fellow is your former owner, Callas. He identified you as his and said you would meet your fate tomorrow. Now," he leaned forward and said, "what was in the damn pouch?"

Jack noted with relief that Daniel's eyes were tracking again. He pinned Jack's gaze as securely as Jack had been pinned to the wall, earlier. Jack took a deep breath and said, "Nails. Big ones. Four of them. Are they for what I think they're for?"

Wordlessly, Daniel nodded.

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

The slim form of his nephew glided up the steps ahead of him. "//Uncle Claudius, how do you get yourself into these fixes?//" Caligula said over his shoulder. "//If I hadn't come along when I did, you might have spent the night in that dreadful little room.//"

Claudius stopped on the stairs and looked back at the door behind which his new friends were held. "//Gaius, w-we'll speak l-later. I need to talk to D-Daniel.//"

"//D-Daniel? D-dear D-Daniel will be c-crow food in a few days, Uncle. He kidnapped you, masqueraded as a citizen, and conspired with that grim friend of his to commit murder! They're lucky to be getting a trial.//" Caligula turned on the stair and tucked his arm around Claudius' shoulder. "//Let's go see what there is to do in this quaint little town, or at least if they have a decent room to let for the night.//" He drew the older man after him, steering him up the stairs.

"//No! I mean…//" he looked into the angry, dangerous face his nephew sometimes envisaged. "//Y-you go on. I n-n-need to ask questions before the tr-rial.//" He pulled away gently and limped back down the stairs, his shoulder blades itching. "//I'll catch up l-later.//" Gaius had never turned that flashing anger on him, but Claudius had the uneasy feeling that his age and infirmity would not stay the young, unbalanced man for much longer.

Thankfully, the next sound he heard was merry laughter, and not the hiss of a dagger being unsheathed. He sighed softly and wondered for the thousandth time how so bright a flame as Germanicus could have ever fathered such a black soul as his nephew's. Sending a quick prayer up to the gods for his long dead brother, Claudius motioned for the guard to open the cell door. Dubiously, the man did so, drawing it open with a gruff courtesy.

"//Thank you. Wha-at's your name?//"

The guard was taken aback somewhat, but answered readily enough. "//Mansuetus, Sir.//"

Claudius smothered a smile, but the man saw anyway and grinned sheepishly. "//Mater had hopes for me as a soldier. She thought if I had to live down my name, it would make me all the more fierce.//" He shrugged expansively. "//It worked, I suppose, but I never made it into the service.//"

"//A p-pity. Well, Mansuetus, w-would you d-do me a courtesy? I have had nothing to eat today and I am famished. C-could you have some food s-sent?//"

The mild faced man shook his head sadly. "//Orders are no food for the prisoners, nor water.//"

"//Ah, but it isn't f-for them, now is it?//" Claudius winked and opened his money pouch, which had been returned amazingly intact when Caligula had arrived. Teasing out a silver denaris, he let his hands twitch. The guard's eyes followed the gleaming bit of metal as it flew into a corner. He looked back at Claudius and nodded. 

"//True enough, and you're not a prisoner anymore. I'll see what I can do.//" He moved to the foot of the stairs and called for another guard to relive him, scooping up the little coin as he went. 

The cell was darkening as the sun set. The Colonel and Daniel were still sitting on the rickety benches, but O'Neill stood as Claudius entered, moving between him and Daniel defensively before he saw who it was. When he did, the soldier did not bother to hide his contempt, nor his anger. "What are you doing here?"

"Who is it?" Daniel asked, looking around O'Neill's hip. 

"I-it is myself, Daniel," he said. "//We need to talk, and I do n-not yet speak your language well enough. Your C-Colonel is angry, I can see. Please tell him what I'm saying before he b-beats me.//"

With a somewhat bemused expression, Daniel spoke to his friend. Claudius understood one word in ten, but enough to know his message had been received. The Colonel turned baleful, but curious eyes on him and said, "Okay. Talk."

"//Start with how you're out of your cell and we're still in ours. Jack wants to know. It's something to do with Caligula being here, isn't it?//"

Nodding, Claudius said, "//It has everything to do with that. Apparently, he was s-sent after me when I wa-as, eventually, missed.//" Actually, his nephew had been planning a trip to Capri and had been asked to keep an eye out for his wayward uncle on the way. "//He stayed over at the Drunken Carter and heard about the r-revolt Callas was busily putting down. Being the helpful lad he is,//" Claudius grimaced, "//he decided to investigate and got the wh-hole story on your, our, escape and flight s-south.//"

Shortly after they had fled the inn, the slaves in the vineyard had turned on their stewards. Many had made it free; others chose to exact retribution on their master and attacked Callas' villa en masse. Between the soldiers Caligula had brought along to guard him from attack on the road, and the remaining stewards, the revolt was brought to a rapid close. The ringleaders were being executed even now, crucified to make an example to the rest of Callas' slaves. Daniel grew even paler when Claudius told them of this, and the Colonel looked grim.

"//There is to be a trial tomorrow. The call for j-jurors is going out now. I w-would represent you but m-m-my nephew has convinced the c-consul that I am half-witted. This is why I can m-move freely. They think I was kidnapped.//"

All charges against Claudius had been dropped, though he was more than a little angry at his nephew for being so high-handed. His reputation for idiocy was an edged blessing. On the one hand he would not be tried for conspiracy. On the other hand, his friends would be without representation, and Claudius' testimony was likely to be overlooked. He knew it had kept him safe within the poisoned bosom of his insane family, but for the first time in many years Claudius regretted his assumed disposition.

"//I can probably handle it, Claudius,//" Daniel said.

A light knock on the door. It opened to the smells of cooked meats and fresh bread. "//M-Mansuet-tus, my fierce f-friend, I thank you for my dinner,//" Claudius exclaimed, rubbing his hands together over the sight of the overflowing tray. A bulging, gurgling sack was slung over one brawny shoulder, though there was only one cup on the tray. The Colonel edged away from the guard, giving him room to set the tray down.

Smiling mildly down at the old soldier, the guard said, "//Sorry about earlier, friend. I hope I didn't hurt your arm. Orders, you understand?//"

O'Neill looked both surprised and contemplative as Daniel murmured his translation, nodding in response. The guard smiled serenely and left his lamp on the floor by the door as he left.

"//Eat, eat!//" Claudius urged, and the two men wasted no time digging into their meal.

Giving them a few minutes in peace, Claudius found himself wondering anew at these strange people. Daniel had told him they were from another world, a world that had experienced Roma in it's distant past. He had wondered about the man's sanity for a time, until meeting up with Teal'c. He had expressed his incredulity, his doubts, and the dark warrior had shown him…a thing. A hissing creature that lived in the warrior's gut. Claudius had never seen the like, nor heard of anything like it in all his reading.

After seeing that thing, that Goa'uld as Daniel had named it, he had to believe. And, believing their story, he had to believe so many other things. Things he really did not want to contemplate right now. Their world viewed the Gods as myths, for one. Fables taught to schoolchildren. Sending a prayer up to Jove to apologize for any accidental blasphemy, Claudius wondered if Daniel was right about the Gods. Certainly, they did not speak to mortals as they once did. 

There was also the troubling issue of slavery. Daniel had said that everyone on his world is born free. There are no slaves, although there had been once. Now, it was illegal. Perhaps something could be made of that argument at the trial tomorrow. 

He was very afraid, though, that the outcome of the trial was a forgone conclusion. Callas was out for blood, and the law was on the side of the accusers, no matter how free the accused had been born. The Emperor looked harshly on people who upset the status quo, however accidentally.

"//Thanks for dinner, Claudius,//" Daniel said. "//They haven't fed us; Jack was getting a little hungry.//" Judging by the way the younger man was inhaling his meal, that hunger had been mutual between them. Claudius contented himself with one cup of wine, and handed the rest back to the two men. Jack looked at the sloshing skin with disgust, and said something to Daniel, who wrinkled his nose. "//Jack says they never made him wash his feet. I think I'll pass, too.//" He handed the skin back to Claudius, who shrugged and topped off his cup.

"//D-Do you have a plan? Where did S-Sam and Teal'c go?//"

Looking to Jack for permission, Daniel told him. "//They should be back in a few days with help, or at least some weapons. We plan to stall until then, and escape ourselves if an opportunity arises.//"

Claudius shook his head. "//They will not let you have that opportunity. Callas has filled the Magistrate's ears with how d-dangerous the Colonel is, how he killed a strong man with only his feet. You will both be closely w-watched, and guarded at all times.//"

"Great," said Jack, nibbling on a bit of orange peel. "So we stall."

* ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

The sun had slipped behind the hills at their back, but the light remained for a time. They threaded their way through the busy port town of Terracina, leading the tired horses. Just outside the city, Sam had taken the precaution of disguising herself and Teal'c. She'd ducked behind some bushes and wound the remaining lengths of silk from her tunic around her breasts, flattening them. Her hair was short enough that she should be able to pass as a young man, if no one looked too closely. A strip of cloth also encircled Teal'c's brow, hiding the gold brand on his brow.

When she emerged from the bushes, Teal'c had raised an eyebrow at her changed appearance. "I do not think that compressing your breasts will be a sufficient disguise, MajorCarter." He stepped up and undid the belt at her waist, letting the folds of fabric hide her hips and waist. "Better. But if your intention is to appear male, you must walk differently and not speak too much." Sam was obscurely pleased that the man had noticed, but did not comment. 

They decided their cover story had best be simple, and one that would allow Teal'c to do most of the talking. Ponza, they had discovered in talking to people in town, was something of a resort. There was a small town there where wealthy Roman citizens kept summer villas, and there was a lively tourist trade. With this in mind, Sam constructed their cover story. Teal'c was a retired gladiator from the provinces, going to the island for a vacation before continuing on to Rome, and Sam was his valet. It was simple, and had the added benefit of explaining the glaring differences in skin tone and dress.

Now that they were in the city, Sam decided they need not have worried too much. There was such a variety of people passing though the port town, they hardly stood out. Still, the cover story might make things easier when trying to find a ride out to the island. "We need to sell the horses, Teal'c. Or find a place to board them until we get back. We also need supplies."

In response Teal'c took the mare's reins in his big hand and handed Sam his money pouch. "Where shall we meet, MajorCarter?"

She looked around for a moment in thought. "The docks. I'll probably be done before you will. Find me, okay?" Teal'c inclined his head and disappeared into the crowd.

It only took one haggling session over the price of a cloth rucksack to make Sam wish she hadn't sent Teal'c off. The woman had wanted three of the little silver coins, and when she found out Sam didn't speak much Latin, she wouldn't be budged down from that. Glaring at the woman, she shoved the three coins across the counter and shouldered the bag. The sound of scornful laughter followed her as she went to find a baker.

Daniel would have probably been right at home in this place, Sam thought. The open-air market was a chattering, lively place even in the growing dusk. It reminded her of the markets in Iraq, right down to the colorful canopies that shaded the vendors and the tantalizing, and less than tantalizing smells. With memories of haggling in those markets in mind, she made a better job of her next purchases, relying on hand signals to bargain the price down on several flat loaves of bread, some dried meat, a bag of hard little apples and another bag of olives. 

The rucksack was getting heavy and her money pouch was getting light. Her feet were also getting sore. Wishing for sneakers, she looked hopefully around for a cobbler. Sneakers would be great, but sandals were probably the best she could hope for, and she was getting tired of traipsing around this place barefoot. After a few minutes wandering, she found what she was looking for.

Evidently a prosperous merchant, the cobbler had an actual storefront as opposed to a tent in the market. A large sandal hung outside the shop, advertising what was sold within. Sam pushed the door open and stepped into the dim, slightly cooler interior. Lamps hung from the ceiling in a smoky perfusion, lighting the place with a soothing, honey-toned brightness.

Looking around, though, she almost turned and left; this was not a shop for the average person. The floor was covered with brightly colored rugs and cushioned couches beckoned the foot weary Major to sit, if only for a moment. She slung her backpack off and sank down onto the plush bench with a sigh, running her hand over the soft linen in appreciation. She'd sit for just a moment, she decided, and then go in search of someplace less pricy.

Just as she had gotten comfortable, the curtain at the back of the store twitched open and a tiny, gray-haired man scurried out, hands waving and talking a mile a minute. That lasted until he got a good look at the person on his couch. She saw him take in her torn tunic, her grubby feet and general air of weariness. Fully expecting him to shoo her summarily out of his den, she stood with a wince and picked up her pack.

To her surprise, though, he laid a hand on her arm and smiled up at her. "Sedea, sedea. Hospes vos." She sat obediently, which brought them eye to eye. "Egere calci, hmm?" This was going to be frustrating, she thought, then had an idea.

Putting her hands over her ears, Sam shook her head, then covered her mouth and did the same. If the man thought she couldn't hear or speak, they would have to rely on something other than her iffy command of his language. He caught her meaning quickly and he looked at her with wide, bright, sympathetic eyes. Lifting a sandal from a display of similar ones, he pointed to Sam's filthy feet, then to Sam. 

She nodded. He smiled and bustled about, finding a size that would fit her feet. Despite her assumed deafness, the man kept up a steady stream of chatter as he scurried around the shop, then disappeared into the back. After a few moments, he returned with a basin of warm water and a cloth over one shoulder. Kneeling at her feet, he picked up one foot and gently immersed it, clucking over the thickening callus on her heel. He rubbed lightly scented oil into her skin, kneading the day's aches away with strong fingers before rinsing and drying her with soft pats of the towel.

I think I'm in love, Sam thought. She smiled her thanks at the tiny man, who patted her knee and held up a sandal for her inspection. 

After several pairs, most of which were discarded by the cobbler for one obscure reason or another, they settled on a pair of sturdy brown sandals with horses carved into the leather. Sam wiggled her toes, then smiled as the little man drew the laces expertly up her calves and tied them. He grinned up at her and stood, then paused in thought. Sensing his trouble, Sam opened her money pouch and withdrew a silver coin. She held up three fingers, a sum much too small to be accepted but a good starting point for haggling.

To her surprise, he held up two fingers. Quickly, before he changed his mind, she fished out another coin and dropped them in his hand. He tucked them into his sash, then looked up at her shyly. With an unreadable smile, he took Sam's hand and drew her to her feet, pulling her gently toward the curtained back room. His ancient face was alive with invitation and mischief.

Alarmed, she drew back, reclaiming her hand and shaking her head. The man looked disappointed, and a little hurt, but did not press the issue. Instead he took her hand once again and kissed it, patting it softly before releasing it. Her alarm fled, leaving a kind of bittersweet wonder in its wake. She wished she had more time to know this strange little cobbler, but Teal'c was no doubt waiting for her on the dock. Gathering up her backpack, she wiggled her toes in the amazingly comfortable sandals and turned to go. 

One hand on the door, she looked back into the shop. The wizened elf was blowing out the lamps, one by one, and chattering happily to himself once again. Seeing her pause, he blew her a kiss and winked, shooing her away with a languid wave. She grinned and ducked back out into the darkening night to find Teal'c.

Following her nose, she eventually found the dock district. It was bigger than she had envisioned, and bustling in the waning light. Stevedores carried cargo on and off of low-slung ships, and the smell of fish and brine was everywhere. Sam wrinkled her nose and tried to breathe through her mouth. Moving like she had a purpose, she snaked along the piers and berths, looking for any sign of her teammate. 

From one end of the docks to the other, she searched, but there was no sign of the big Jaffa. Deciding he must not have finished his horse trading yet, Sam spent a brass coin on a bowl of fish stew and another for a small loaf of coarse bread, warm from the shopkeeper's oven. She seated herself at one of the open-air tables and hoped Teal'c would find her soon.

She did not have long to wait. She had just popped the last bit of bread in her mouth when she saw the tall Jaffa, wandering along the waterline. Licking her fingers, she shouldered the backpack and made her way through the crowds to his side. "Hey, Teal'c. What kept you?"

"MajorCarter. I regret the delay, but I am pleased to inform you that I have found a ship leaving this hour for Ponza. I have negotiated passage for us both."

Impressed, she said, "All right, Teal'c! Lead the way."

The ship was a square sailed merchant vessel. According to Teal'c, it made regular runs to Ponza, carrying goods and passengers to the little island twice a week. The trip would take a day, depending on the wind. 

Sam did some mental calculations and realized that would have them back to the Colonel in four days, at a minimum, if they found passage back immediately. She just hoped they found what they needed quickly and that the Colonel and Daniel could hold out until their return.

^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

Daniel scratched his chin and wished he and Jack had been allowed a trip to the barber before this trial began. Jack looked rumpled and disreputable enough, with several days' growth of beard and those bruises. The linguist knew he did not look that much better. Thanks to Vispilia's salve, neither of them was in much pain, but that was the best that could be said of their physical condition. They had been collected by a troop of wary soldiers and marched up the stairs at dawn. Now they sat on marble benches in an open courtyard, waiting for the jurors to assemble.

"Nice place," Jack said, looking around. Daniel peered at the green blobs that were probably plants, and the tall white blobs that he guessed were columns, and wordlessly agreed. The fountain made a nice sound, he thought, and wished he could go wash his face and take a nice long drink. Somehow, though, he thought such behavior would be frowned upon.

He shifted on the hard bench, drumming his fingers on the cool surface, and wondered where Claudius had gotten off to. He'd left them around midnight, promising to meet them in the morning, but there was no sign of him yet. Jack put his hand over Daniel's drumming fingers, flattening them gently. "Cut it out. You're making me nervous."

"Sorry." He crossed his arms loosely, careful not to wake the pain in his back. "I just hate waiting like this."

"Stalling, remember? They can take as long as they like. I'll sit here all day and not complain." 

That put things into perspective. Daniel found a reserve of patience and stillness, tapped into it, and found himself settling down. He even slipped into a light doze at one point, waking only when Jack nudged him in the ribs. "Hey, Claudie!" O'Neill chirped happily.

The Roman looked considerably fresher than Jackson felt; he'd obviously been to the local baths and availed himself of a clean tunic and toga. Frowning as he crossed the courtyard, he said, "//Claudius. M-My name is Claudius. Not C-C-Claudie.//"

Leveling a quelling glare at Jack, Daniel said, "//He only teases people he likes, Claudius. Do not be affronted. It is his way.//" 

Pausing in his limping advance, Claudius said, "//Truly? I had the impression the Colonel did not c-care for me.//" He sat heavily on a padded stool one of the guards had placed nearby for his use. 

"What's he saying, Daniel?" Jack asked, hating to be left out of anything.

Daniel replied, "He thinks you don't like him." 

"What gave him that idea?" O'Neill looked genuinely surprised.

"Well, when you first met…."

Jack interrupted with a grimace. "When we first met, I wasn't really myself. Anyone with an Italian accent would have set me off. Tell him I like him just fine." He smiled reassuringly at the Roman as Daniel relayed the message.

A commotion at the door drew their attention. "//I have a right to be here. You cannot deny me!//" Daniel flinched as he recognized the voice. Hastatus. 

"What the hell does that bastard want now?" Jack growled at his side. Feeling comforted by his friend's presence, Daniel just shrugged and wished the man would go away.

No such luck, though. He shoved past the guards and into the room, taking up a position by the door. Daniel avoided looking at the man, but could not make himself totally ignore him either. So much of their problems now were due to Hastatus. He was a silent, baleful presence in the room and Daniel found himself staring at the man, trying to read him.

"//What are you staring at, servi?//" the man asked with a sneer in his voice.

"//You are as much as slave as I, Hastatus. More, since I was born free. What do you want?//" 

"//To watch you die, dog. That's all.//" 

There was something in the man's accent, something tickling the back of Daniel's mind. Shrugging off Jack's warning hand, Daniel stood and walked closer to the slouched figure. The guards tensed, but Daniel ignored them, squinting to bring the swarthy face into focus. In the light, the man did not look Roman at all. He looked more like the native workers Daniel remembered from his childhood in Giza.

"Daniel! What are you doing? Get back here!" Jack said, exasperation filling his words with tension.

"Just a second, Jack. //Hastatus, where were you born?//"

The big man looked surprised, the hateful sneer that twisted his lip vanished for the moment. "//Why do you ask?//"

Licking his lips, Daniel said, in Late Egyptian, "** Because I think I grew up in the same neighborhood. **" 

Hastatus was silent for a long moment, then said, suspiciously, "** You are a scribe. A scholar. You have studied my people, yes? **"

"Daniel…." the warning was clear in Jack's voice, but Daniel's inner linguist had come out to play.

"He's speaking a pre-Coptic dialect of Egyptian, Jack. That's been a dead language ever since the Arab conquest of Egypt in 640 AD. This is to modern Egyptian what Latin is to us: a root language." Turning back to Hastatus, Daniel said, "** It's true, I have made a study of your people. But I was also born in Egypt. In Letopolis. Khem. How long….**" 

Before he could finish his sentence, Hastatus closed the distance between them. Startled, Daniel backed up, nearly colliding with a potted fig tree. "** I do not care to hear any more from you, dog. You are excrement beneath my shoe. You are carrion that yet lives and breathes. Your trial starts soon, and will end soon I think. Go back to your murdering friend and make peace with your Gods. **" With that, he turned and resumed his place beside the door.

Shaken, Daniel walked back to his bench and sat down, holding onto the cold marble for stability. "That man has a talent for hate." 

"Ya think?"

Not too much later, a guard came and collected them. Once again surrounded by armed soldiers, they were moved from the courtyard to the adjacent building. The large, open forum was filled with milling figures despite the early hour. The jurors, a motley bunch of yawning men, sat on benches along one wall. The Magistrate sat at his table at the front of the room, along with Callas and the Consul, a bland looking man with bad skin. 

Claudius led the way to a line of tables opposite the jury benches. Caligula was waiting for them, lounging languidly across his chair. "//Good morning, Uncle. And good morning, esteemed clients. You look more in need of a bath than ever, Daniel of Letopolis. A shave would not be amiss either.//"

"//Clients?//" Daniel turned to Claudius, who nodded tiredly.

He did not get a chance to say anything more. As soon as they were seated, the Magistrate called for silence. The milling spectators settled down and Callas stood to make his case.

He soon had the room spellbound with an exciting tale of murder, the kidnapping of a member of the imperial family, deceit, revolution, and conspiracy. Daniel and Jack were painted as the evil instigators of a homicidal attack on Callas' family, culminating in the deaths of several trusted stewards, both slave and freeborn. "//The slave, Daniel, dared to masquerade as a citizen, wearing the toga of a patrician. He claimed that the man who murdered my steward, Harundo, was a veteran and enslaved by error. I freed the man in good faith, thinking the error had been mine. I learned some time after that I had been duped, and my slave had been stolen from me. By that time, they had fled and my own slaves were in open revolt.//"

The jurors muttered among themselves. Caligula yawned. 

"Why doesn't he say anything?" Jack whispered to Daniel.

Having been wondering this himself, Daniel said, "I don't think it's his turn yet."

With a glare at the whispering men, Callas continued, "//Honored Consul, if these men had not escaped in the night, they would be joining those of my stock already executed. The only reason they are receiving a hearing here is due to an ill-considered plea on the part of the Emperor's nephew, Tiberius Claudius. I ask that they be given over to me for punishment as soon as the jurors reach the inevitable decision on their guilt.//"

Turning his head, Caligula said in Daniel's ear, "//My, you *have * been busy.//" With an evil little smile, he added, "//Are you certain you do not know where that delicious sister of yours has gotten off to? No? Ah, well.//" 

Climbing out of his sprawl, the youth bowed to the Magistrate's table with a mocking grace. "//If it please you, Honored Consul, Magistrate Timos, I truly have little to say in the face of such eloquence. The guilt of my clients is obvious….//"

"//NO!//" Daniel shot up, pounding the table to drown out the sneering voice. "//It is not obvious!//"

"Daniel, what are you doing?" Jack tried to pull the younger man down, but Daniel resisted.

"He's throwing the case, Jack. He just gave us to them. I have to do something, say something. Courts of law are different here; they don't have to prove anything, just convince the jury." Daniel looked at the angry faces at the front of the room, and the closed faces of the jurors. "I have to try, Jack."

O'Neill's hands twitched, released the clutch they had held on Daniel's shirt. "Make it good, Danny."

Warmed by his friend's trust, Daniel edged around the table. The guards at the corners of the room surged forward, their hands on their daggers and Daniel stopped, raising his hands. "//Please. I only wish to speak.//" 

The lead guard looked to the Magistrate, who nodded and motioned him back. To Daniel, he said, "//You have no rights here. You realize this, yes?//"

Swallowing nervously, Daniel nodded, conceding the point.

"//Good. That being said, we will hear what you have to say on the behalf of yourself and your coconspirator. Let it not be said that this court deprived anyone of life without a due hearing. Since your counsel,//" he stopped and glared at the petulant look on Caligula's face, "//has not seen fit to argue your case, I will allow you to do so.//"

"//Thank you, Magistrate Timos.//" He looked over his shoulder at Jack and nodded. 

Taking a deep breath, Daniel closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts. "//Some of what Callas said is true,//" he began. "//I did lie to him to free my friend. It is also true, by his words to me, that Jack killed the steward Harundo. I submit to you, however, that any free man here would have acted as we have done.//" 

"//But you are not free men, boy,//" Callas said angrily.

Daniel shook his head. "//Oh, but we are. Free born and, until a few days ago, free citizens of a mighty nation. A nation that holds no slaves and where the practice has been outlawed for many years.//" Laughter rippled through the crowd at his words. "//It's true. We came freely to this land and were taken into slavery by force and deceit. Would not any of you try to regain your liberty under the same circumstances?//"

The pasty-faced Consul bridged his hands together and said, with an unctuous smile, "//If you were taken, duped as you say, then it is your own fault. Gaius Julius, son of the noble Germanicus and the Emperor's nephew, has identified you as the lawfully purchased property of the Imperial household. Callas, a landowner of great reputation, lays claim to the man you have claimed as your brother.//" He shuffled through his documents, searching for something. "//I do not see his name here. Callas, the slave's name?//"

"//Hastatus called him Milesitis Senex, but I do not know his true name, Consul,//"

"//His name is Colonel Jack O'Neill,//" Daniel said. "//And he is not a slave.//"

Not unkindly, the Magistrate said, "//By our laws, he is. You both are. No good cursing the tide, boy.//"

"//I have no choice, Honored Timos.// Daniel forced his fists to unclench, ran shaking fingers through his hair, and took a deep breath. He turned at looked back at Jack, sitting tense and focused. Remembered the pouch of nails, and Callas' promise, and wished desperately for inspiration.

His gazed flicked to Claudius, who was writing furiously on a wax tablet. Curious, Daniel stepped back to the table as Claudius turned the tablet around for him to read.

Epictetus. //Be suspicious of convention// He looked sharply up at the Roman, who just shrugged and motioned Daniel to turn and get on with it. "//Claudius, how do you know of Epictetus?//" Daniel said in a low voice. "//He was, will be born, in about thirty years, your time.//" 

A look of pained confusion passed over Claudius' face, then it cleared. "//I d-do not know how I kn-now of him. Does it m-matter?//" 

"//It might,// Daniel decided quickly, "//but not right now.//" He turned and addressed the court. "//With your permission, I would like to speak the words of one of the great thinkers of this age.//"

The Magistrate nodded, glaring at the fidgeting Consul. "//You may.//"

"//Epictetus tells us to be suspicious of convention. To take charge of our thinking and rouse ourselves from the daze of unexamined habit. Popular perceptions, values, and ways of doing things are rarely the wisest. Conventional thinking is essentially uncreative and uninteresting. Its job is to preserve the status quo for overly self-defended individuals and institutions, such as the institution of slavery.

"//Socially taught beliefs are frequently unreliable. The only life worth living is one that is examined and vigilantly chosen, rather than acquiesced to in apathy. With this in mind, honored citizens, I ask you to place yourselves within the context of our experience and honestly examine whether you would not have acted accordingly.//"

He turned now and directly addressed the jurors. "//My friend and I were taken unawares and sold into slavery. Until that moment, we were as free as you are now. In the span of an hour, sleeping to waking, we were separated from our friends and deprived of liberty, dignity, and legal recourse. Jack was subjected to harsh abuse, on a whim, of which he yet bears the marks. Had he not defended himself from his tormentor, far worse would have happened to him.//"

This was getting nowhere, by the looks on the bored faces of the jurymen. Time to make it personal. "//If I were to tell you, sir,// he pointed to a yawning man in the front row, who sat up with a glare, "//that as of this moment you were owned by the man next to you, what would be your response? Or if your dearest child, traveling to a distant land, had been taken by bandits and sold, would you not move the heavens to retrieve him?//"

They were looking thoughtful now, and the crowd was murmuring at his back. Yes, he thought, walk a mile in my shoes. Of course, I don't have any shoes right now…. Focus, Jackson.

"//Our one desire is to go home. To return to our friends and resume our lives far from here. Is there one of you, even one, who would not desire the same, were you in our place? Who would not take whatever action necessary to regain your liberty? I think you would do the same as any person who was free in his mind, but not before the eyes of the law. Think on it, honored citizens.//" 

He bowed to the jurors, then to the Magistrate and the silent Consul, and walked back to the defendant's table. His hands were shaking, and a whole legion of militant butterflies had established a base in his gut. He smiled wanly at Jack as he took his seat. "I didn't understand a word," O'Neill whispered, "but it sounded impressive. What did you say?"

"Told 'em to walk a mile in my moccasins, essentially. I think it went well." Claudius still looked grim, though.

The murmurs were growing louder, and once again the Magistrate called for silence. "//The accused will be returned to their cells while this court considers the eloquent arguments of both sides. We will re-convene this afternoon.//" 

Back in the tiny cell, Daniel filled O'Neill in on what had transpired at court. "Didn't you tell me that Claudius had freed you or something? Did you mention that little tidbit?"

Daniel shook his head, "I couldn't. For one thing there were no witnesses, and for another, Claudius' freedom depends on his not being seen as mentally able."

"Yeah, but if the jury bought your free status, then you might have had a chance. Claudius said citizens can't be…be…." he couldn't finish the thought.

"Crucified? It won't come to that, Jack. I really think I made them think, up there." He had to hope so, at least. It was all a matter of time, now. Sam and Teal'c should be to Terracina by now. Maybe already on Ponza. Three days, four on the outside. They would make it.

The hours crept by, marked by a square of sunlight from the window creeping along the floor. "Y'know," Jack said, stretching, "Carter could probably calculate how long we've been here by how fast that thing's moving."

Daniel was resting his eyes again, lying down with his crooked arm over his eyes. "Stalling, remember? Let 'em have a good, long deliberation. I can wait all week, if I have to." 

O'Neill gave a little bark of laughter, and bounced a raisin off of Daniel's head. 

"Real mature, Jack. You know perfectly well I can't aim worth squat, right now."

"Daniel, you couldn't aim worth squat *before * you got knocked in the head. Why should anything be different now?"

A groping hand found the long empty waterskin and Daniel heaved it toward O'Neill's voice. He heard it clatter against the wall, followed by Jack's derisive laughter. "Damn it. No fair ducking." Another raisin flew, hitting Jackson in the nose. "Aim a little lower, Jack," he suggested, opening his mouth. A tart little missile landed square on his tongue. "Good shot. Betcha can't do it again, though." 

They had run out of raisins and the little square of sunlight had crept far up the wall when the door opened again and they were ushered back to the court. "How does the Magistrate look, Jack?" Daniel asked. He squinted, then gave up trying to read expressions from across the room.

"Glum. And he won't meet my eyes. Callas looks way too happy. This is bad, Daniel." Jack glared over his shoulder at the smug Hastatus, seated near the front of the audience, and then turned to face the court again. 

Calling for silence, the Magistrate stood and said, "//This court has reached its decision. While the arguments of the slave Daniel were both moving and compelling, the law is very clear, especially in light of the revolt of Callas' slaves. It is felt that, to condone illegal behavior, however one might feel empathy with the motives of the perpetrators, would be tantamount to calling for open rebellion in the empire. It is, therefore, the majority decision of this court that both slaves be executed in a manner that will discourage similar acts of revolution.//"

Numbly, Daniel translated the Magistrate's words for O'Neill. "Revolution, huh? I'll damn well show them revolution." He stood and made it three steps toward the Magistrate before Daniel was able to slow him down. "Let me go, Danny."

Caligula's soldiers and the town guard were bearing down on them as Daniel tried to push Jack back. "Time, remember?" He spoke in a rush. " Stall 'em. Don't give them an excuse to kill us quickly." 

Jack glared at the younger man, then let himself be pushed back to the table before the guards reached them. 

"//Order, please!//" The Magistrate had borrowed one of the guard's cudgels and was rapping it smartly on his table. Startled, Daniel noticed that the room was full of commotion, and he and Jack were at its center. The people from the town, sitting and observing the proceedings were shouting at the jurors, who were gesticulating and shouting back. Evidently, this was not a popular decision with everyone.

"We won over the populous, anyway, Jack." He smiled shakily and sat as his knees gave out. "Lotta good that does, but it's something, I guess."

The Magistrate continued rapping as the guards cleared the room. "//I will have order. All but the condemned and their council will leave the room.//" Guards stationed themselves at the exits, solid and immovable. 

When the room was clear, Timos stood and, to Daniel's surprise, approached them. He leaned against the table for a moment, then stood and began pacing. "//You will be taken back to your cell tonight. In the morning, since I am told we have but one stipe, one of you will be nailed to the crux. When that one is dead, the other will take his place.//" He passed a weary hand over his face and said, "//I leave it to you to decide. I am sorry.//" With that, he left the room, followed by the Consul.

"Sorry. He's sorry. Peachy." Jack said, after Daniel relayed the Magistrate's words.

Wracking his brain for everything he remembered about crucifixion, Daniel said, "Actually, this might be a good thing."

Appalled, Jack gaped at Daniel. "What are you saying, Daniel?"

Not quite believing his own ears, Daniel said, "It takes days to die by crucifixion, Jack. Plenty of time for Sam and Teal'c to get back here and get us back to Janet. Some re-constructive surgery, a lot of therapy, and I'll be fine." 

"You'll be…over my dead body, Daniel!" The guards stood in a ring around the room, looking tense and far too eager to use their cudgels.

Daniel nodded, "That's exactly what I'm afraid of. Sit *down *, Jack. Please." He pushed a barely resisting O'Neill back to the bench, smiling reassuringly at the guards. At least he hoped he looked reassuring. He was a little afraid he just looked sick and a bit crazy. That was how he felt, at any rate.

Ever since he, Sam, and Claudius had planned Jack's escape, he'd known this was a possibility. That did not make it easier to contemplate. "I'm younger, and in better physical shape right now. You're still dehydrated and you have a cracked rib. You would last a day, maybe less."

Jack flinched, "How did you know about my ribs?"

"Caupona told me. Now, unless you think of a better plan, like some way of getting the hell out of here tonight, we're all out of options."

^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

The huge square sail snapped and billowed above his head, then bellied full in the rising wind. According to the captain of the vessel, they were making good progress and would reach the island of Ponza within the hour. Pleased with the news, Teal'c was in search of MajorCarter to inform her of their imminent arrival. 

After a minimum of effort, he found her at the bow of the ship, looking out across the water. The wind had caught the short strands of her hair and was playing with them as a cat might bat a bit of string. He held back for a moment and observed her covertly with fond pleasure.

The women of the Tau'ri were very different from the women of Chulak, he had discovered. There was a sharp bite in their nature, not unlike the 'salsa' that DanielJackson so enjoyed during their dinners at Chuy's. He had noted in both MajorCarter and Doctor Fraiser a willingness to do battle and a stubbornness that the women of Chulak, while beautiful and passionate in their own way, could never match, being born to serve the gods first and their families second. Even the spirited Dray'ak, his estranged wife, could not match MajorCarter for strength of will and mind.

If only she was not so small, he thought. While he knew MajorCarter was of average size for Tau'ri female, he felt large and ungainly next to her. Dray'ak had been his match in that, at least.

As though she had sensed his presence, MajorCarter turned and smiled at him, waving him towards her. "What did the Captain say, Teal'c?"

"We should arrive with ample time to locate the grotto described on DanielJackson's scroll. The darkness on the horizon is, I am told, Ponza."

She nodded, looking back out over the water. "Good. I want to start back tonight, if possible." Something caught her eye in the water below and she leaned over the rail. "Teal'c, look! Dolphins." She sounded excited and pleased and her eyes were alight with happiness when she looked back up at him.

"You should take care, MajorCarter." He stepped up to steady her as she leaned over the water once again to watch the leaping sea mammals. They were, he admitted to himself, quite beautiful creatures. 

The Tau'ri turned and leaned against the rail, looking up at him bemusedly. "Teal'c, can I ask you a question?"

He nodded, intrigued. 

"You call the Colonel 'O'Neill.' Everyone else at the SGC, you call by at least two names. DanielJackson, DoctorFraiser…"

"MajorCarter."

"Exactly. Except in the heat of battle, when you drop the last part of the name for expediency, I assume."

"That is correct. You wish to know why?" She nodded. "Shortly after my arrival, O'Neill came to my quarters and asked me a similar question. I told him that it is a sign of respect, to acknowledge the full name and ancestry of one's peers in conversation. The Tau'ri have very long names, however. MajorSamanthaCarter would be very tiring to say all the time, so I took it upon myself to shorten it, and have hoped I did not give offense." 

To his relief, she shook her head. "Not at all, Teal'c. But, you only call the Colonel by his last name. Isn't that disrespectful?"

"That is the very point I made to him at the time. He instructed me to, nevertheless, 'pick one', meaning one of his many names, and to 'stick with it.' I have done so. No one else at the SGC has made that request as yet."

There were times when Teal'c doubted the vaunted intelligence of SG-1's astrophysicist. Such instances were not many, and they were widely spaced in occurrence, but they did occasionally happen. This was not one of those times. MajorCarter paused for only a moment before saying, "If you like, you can call me by one name, Teal'c. I won't be offended."

Hiding a smile, Teal'c nodded once. "Very well…Sam."

She looked surprised, but did not suggest a different name, turning instead to watch the leaping gray mammals once again. He wondered if she minded his choice, but decided not to offer another at present. 

They sailed closer, rounding the crescent shaped island to the east and entered port in the late afternoon. The docks were much quieter than the ones at Terracina. Teal'c found this very soothing, as was the still ground. The endless movement of the small ship had been most unsettling to his symbiote, which still roiled restlessly in unease. Stroking his abdomen soothingly, he followed Sam's progress along the docks.

A hand on his arm stopped him. The Captain of their vessel, a red-whiskered man named Ramos, stared after his teammate. "//How much do you want for him?//" 

Teal'c withdrew his arm from the man's grasp and scowled. "//My valet is not for sale.//" He turned to follow after Sam, and was stopped again.

"//Come on, how much? He's a pretty lad and we've a long journey ahead of us.//" The man smiled unpleasantly and leered up at the Jaffa.

His lip curled in disgust at the odious man. "//My valet is not for sale at any price. I am quite attached to him. Please desist in making unwelcome offers for his purchase.//" He took his arm back and walked away quickly, following Sam's darting form several yards away.

"//I know all the captains who sail from this island, friend,//" the Captain called after him. "//We'll talk again when you want to go back to the mainland!//"

Undomesticated equines, Teal'c decided, would not force him to divulge the man's intentions to MajorCarter. He caught up with her quickly and made vague replies to her questions about the man. The Tau'ri was not happy with his responses, but was soon distracted by the task at hand and did not inquire further.

There were numerous dining establishments serving freshly cooked foods. At Sam's suggestion, they stopped at one and purchased a meal of baked fish and assorted vegetables in a spicy sauce that, oddly, calmed his symbiote considerably. After the quick meal, Sam dug DanielJackson's scroll from her knapsack and unrolled it on the table for their mutual study.

While neither of them could read the language, there was a map along the edge of the writing, closely resembling the coastline along which they had sailed to reach Ponza's harbor. The harbor itself was depicted, and an arched opening to the west was marked with a circle and symbols similar to the ones on the Stargate. "Daniel said we were looking for a grotto of some kind. This must be the place, here." 

"Indeed. Perhaps we can find someone to guide us there. This map is lacking in many details."

Sam sat in thought for a moment, then brightened. "Our Captain. He can sail us around to the other side of the island. It's probably only accessible by boat, anyway. Most volcanic grottos are."

"That will not be possible, MajorCarter." He knew the rapidity of his response had been a mistake the moment the words left his mouth. Now her curiosity was roused and there was little that stood in SamanthaCarter's way when she was curious about something. 

In hopes of forestalling her inevitable questions, he held up a hand and said, "It will be quicker to go overland and hire a smaller boat, I think. It does not appear to be a great distance away. I will ask the food vendor if there are boats for hire." He stood and put action to word, retreating as a prudent warrior does when his position is about to be overrun by superior forces.

^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

They'd finally been fed. At Jack's repeated demands, the Magistrate had sent down a fairly large meal and had refilled their waterskin. Claudius' dinner had been an age ago and, despite his dread of what day would bring, Jack found himself eating with a good appetite. Daniel, on the other hand, was nibbling. 

"Eat, Danny. That's an order." He tossed the younger man an orange and popped something wrapped in grape leaves into his own mouth. "This is pretty good stuff."

"I'm not hungry." He peeled the orange anyway, sucking on the juicy segments without enthusiasm. "I'm putting in for a month of down time when we get back. This has got to be the worst mission, ever."

"Oh, come on. What about the mission to P8-1126."

Daniel winced. "Land of the walking poison ivy people? Yeah, that was a bad one. Oh, or that planet with the purple sky, where you had to dance…."

"Hey! 'Nuff said. I've blotted that one out." He tossed a warm hunk of bread at Daniel, who threw a bit of orange peel back and missed O'Neill entirely. Jack chose not to comment. "Anyway, P5X-332 was lots worse than that."

Scrunching his face in thought, Daniel said, "P5X-332? I don't remember… Oh! That wasn't so bad, Jack."

"Daniel, everything was gray. Even the people. It was the single most boring place we've ever been. I was tempted to shoot something just to add some color to the scenery!"

There it was. That was the sound Jack had been trying for. Daniel, laughing. 

"I was desperate, Daniel! Going wacko! Off my rocker! And they were so freakin' polite! And bland! I bet if we introduced them to garlic, the civilization would die of shock within the week. The food had less taste then MRE's, which, at least, taste like chicken!" He had to smile at the sight of the normally dour young man, clutching his ribs and wiping his eyes. 

"Even…," Daniel was trying to control the slightly hysterical giggles, and failing miserably. "Even the Mac and cheese…. Oh, that hurts, Jack. Cut it out!"

Taking pity, Jack shut up. He piled a bit of flat bread with cheese and wolfed it down. Now Daniel would be able to think, now that he was out of the depressed funk in which the verdict had left him. He had really thought he had swayed the jurors, and it seemed he had convinced the Magistrate, at least in part. That wasn't enough, though. 

O'Neill looked at his options. The window was too small for two broad-shouldered mooks like them. The door was too well guarded. In the morning, armed soldiers would almost certainly surround them at all times. Unless Claudius could find a way from the outside tonight, they'd have to risk making a break for it in the morning. No way was he going to allow Daniel to get nailed to a damn cross. 

Daniel wiped his eyes as the last of the chuckles died away. "Thanks, Jack. I really needed that." He took a long pull at the waterskin and finished off his orange. "Fruit tastes different here, did you notice. All Earth varieties, but just a little, I don't know, off. Not bad, though."

"Even if they, whoever they are, engineered the place to resemble Earth, this is still a different planet. Stands to reason, differences in soil, climate, whatever, would make things taste different. Right?"

"Makes sense." Daniel leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. "I've been trying to figure this place out. The scroll we found in Claudius' room back in Rome was written in a combination of Etruscan and very early Latin, which suggests the builders may have had a hand in the creation of the real Rome, back on earth. 

"No one really knows where the Etruscans came from; it's kind of an archaeological mystery. According to legend the first Etruscan ruler, Tarquinius Priscus, I think his name was, took control of Rome by peaceful means. At the time, Rome was just a settlement along the Tiber, on and around Palatine Hill, where the Imperial family still lives."

"I thought it had something to do with the Romulans."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that, Jack. Romulus and Remus were the legendary founders of Rome, yes, but Rome was not, as they say, built in a day. The Etruscans really got things rolling, introducing stone foundations for buildings, tiled roofs, writing, and a whole political, social, and military organization. After about a century, though, Tarquinius' family was overthrown and the Roman Republic was founded. Very revolutionary, for the times."

"Self rule and representation, rather than monarchy."

"Right."

"So maybe these Etruscan guys were, what, Goa'ulds?"

Daniel shook his head. "I don't think so. Remember P3R272?"

"That little room where the thing grabbed my head and filled it with the knowledge of the Ancients? Uh, yeah. Kinda hard to forget. You left my favorite ball cap behind."

"All of your ball caps are military issue, Jack," Daniel pointed out.

"Yeah, but I had just gotten that one broken in good. What about P3R272?" 

"What if," the younger man paused, then sat forward, peering across the dim room with intent eyes, "What if the Etruscans were the Ancients? Or were influenced by them, somehow. Finding the Etruscan language here is like…finding Egyptian symbols in a Mayan tomb. Or on the Moon. There has to be some causative connection, and I don't think it's Goa'uld, in this case."

His mind was working all right, but Jack needed it working on a solid plan. "Which tells us what, exactly, Daniel? How does this help us?"

The younger man seemed to deflate, then perked up the next moment. "Well, if nothing else, once we get out of here, maybe we can find out where they went, and find some way to contact them. Thor hasn't exactly been forthcoming on that subject."

"True. First things first, though. Getting out of here."

The light went out of Daniel's eyes and he leaned back against the wall, closing them once more. "Sam and Teal'c will be back soon, Jack." He rested his head against the cool stones and drew his legs up, hugging his knees. "We'll be just fine."

The way he was drawing in reminded Jack of the marks he'd treated earlier on Daniel's back and arms. "Turning turtle again, Danny?" he asked in a soft voice. "We're gonna get out of here; sooner rather than later. Trust me."

In a quiet voice, Daniel answered, "I trust you, Jack. I just don't see many alternatives right now."

A flash of red drew Jack's eye to the window. "The night is young, Danny." He stood and hopped up on the bench to look outside. "You have a visitor, Doctor Jackson. Get up here." The scarred woman, Vispilia, pushed something into his hands before he could move out of the way, and then Daniel was whispering to her.

While the two conspired, Jack opened the bundle. Two long yardages of white cloth, two small daggers, and a clinking pouch. 

"She says to be ready. What did she hand you?" Daniel hopped off of the bench and peered over Jack's shoulder. 

"Couple of togas, it looks like, along with some weapons and money. Looks like we might get sprung." He handed one of the togas to Daniel and wrapped the other around himself, trying to mimic the folds in which the Magistrate had worn his. After a few tries, he gave up and just wrapped it like he had seen Belushi do it. Daniel, of course, looked very authentic when he was done. 

"The daggers should be on cords; they go around the neck and tuck into the togas." He drew O'Neill into what was left of the light and looked him over critically. "Geeze, Jack, watch Animal House one too many times?" He twitched the folds of fabric into shape, then stepped back and looked him over again, ignoring the dirty look Jack was aiming at him. "Better. Now what?"

"I guess we wait." The sounds of the village and the more distant sounds of the campground were changing, he noticed. Getting louder. "Daniel, do you hear what I hear?"

"If you hear a riot, yes. Get up there and tell me what's going on!" 

Jack gathered up the lengths of cloth and climbed on the bench again, peering out the window. The town square was lit by torchlight and was full of agitated people, shouting and milling around. "Daniel, what does 'Libertas' mean?"

"Um…freedom, or liberty. Is that what they're shouting?"

"Oh, yeah. You little agitator, you." He could smell wine in large amounts, too. Craning his neck a little he saw jugs being passed among the crowd. It looked a little like a combination of Mardi Gras and the Democratic National Convention of 1968 out there, and it was getting uglier the more inebriated the mob became.

The door behind them opened; Jack climbed down quickly and moved in front of Daniel. "I wish you'd stop doing that, Jack. I can't see anything when you do that."

It was Claudius. "Citius, citius!" He motioned them forward. 

Daniel poked Jack in the back and said, "He said, quickly, Jack. Let's go." He dodged around O'Neill and slipped out the door.

"Cool." 

The guards were slouched on the floor, asleep. "He says he drugged them." Daniel relayed as they hurried through the darkened halls. "Vispilia is working the crowd out front to occupy the rest of the soldiers. We have horses waiting out back." Jack put out a hand to steady him as he stumbled down a short flight of steps.

"Daniel, can you see well enough to ride?"

The younger man nodded. "My eyes have been getting a little better. Things are still pretty blurry, but you're wearing white. I'll just aim my horse at your back and follow you."

They emerged into the cool night at last, the sounds of the mob muffled by distance and the bulk of the building. "Whoa, wait a sec." Jack recognized the man holding the horses as the mild faced guard from the night before. "What's he doing here?"

The man smiled and handed him the reins to a big brown horse, responding to Daniel's questions with a short murmur. "Amantes sunt amentes." 

"Daniel?" Tell me what's going on before I lose it, please.

"Ahm… He says, all lovers are lunatics." A flash of red veils rounded the corner of the building and the guard's smile grew warm and possessive. The scarred woman came to rest in his arms, smiling shyly at Daniel through her ruined face. 

With a surprised smile, he greeted her, "Salve`, Vispilia." 

"Salve`, Daniel." She looked worshipfully up at the man who embraced her and said, "Nemo in amore videt." 

Jack knew that one: Love is blind. He waved off Daniel's translation and took the reins of one of the horses. "This is lovely, but we need to go. Now. Daniel, saddle up."

"Um, no saddles." There were leather pads strapped onto the horses' backs, and reins, but no saddles or stirrups. "Haven't been invented, yet. Fourth century A.D."

"They had 'em in Gladiator."

"Don't get me started, Jack. We can talk about historical inaccuracies in popular cinema on the road. Lets go."

Claudius stood on the steps, watching. "He not coming?" Jack asked as he clambered gracelessly onto his mount.

"Apparently not, um…." They spoke for a moment, and then Claudius went back inside the building. "He says to go on, he'll be fine. He's the emperor's nephew, Jack. They won't hurt him."

Jack hated to leave the man behind, but he belonged here, after all. "Maybe they couldn't find a third horse." 

Daniel led his over to the steps and climbed on, taking the reins from Vispilia. "South?"

"Not yet. Follow me." 

Wishing for less moon, or darker clothes, Jack guided his mount to the east, well out of the torch light in the town center and avoiding the campground entirely. They entered the tree line and spent a tense half-hour circling the village, angling south to hit the road well out of sight of the town. Except for the creak of the leather pads and the horses' dull plod, they traveled in silence. Jack felt a bit like Orpheus, and had to turn to make sure Daniel was still back there more than once. 

The moon was high when they finally reached the lip of the valley and Jack started to feel safer. Not safe, quite yet, but safer. 

"Jack, I think we've been missed." O'Neill listened as the wind brought the distant sounds of the village to them. Daniel was right, the tone had changed from the distant roar of the mob to cries of alarm. With a curse, he kicked his horse in the side and urged it to a gallop, hearing Daniel doing the same at his six. Hopefully, they had enough of a head start, they would make it fine, but now was a time for haste, rather than stealth. 

The trees cleared before them and they were on the road, flying under the moon's bright glow. Jack crouched low over his horses' neck and kicked, willing the beast to go faster. The stacatto beat of Jackson's black gelding moved up to his side and they were racing, neck and neck, along the Appia. Daniel grinned over at him, elated to be free and moving toward home at last, and he had to grin back. 

And then he was flying, falling, rolling painfully along the stones while his horse screamed behind him. Something in his leg snapped wetly and he was screaming too, rolling to a stop, holding his leg and hoping Danny had not stopped, please God, let him keep riding, keep going. There was shouting all around, and many footsteps, and then the face he least wanted to see was hovering over his. "Jack, oh God, Jack…." And then there was just nothing.

^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

The island was not large; a fifteen-minute walk brought Sam and Teal'c to the other side. They stood at the top of a short bluff and looked down on a crescent-moon beach, the sand white as snow, which embraced a cove of crystal blue water. "Wow. I wouldn't mind coming here on vacation," Sam said. 

"Indeed. It is very tranquil." The sun was setting over the horizon, gold and fire. "Are not the sunsets on the true Earth more colorful, Sam?"

They started down the hill, following a well-worn path down to the white beach. "Unfortunately, yes. Pollution in our atmosphere makes the sunsets back home much more vivid. A minor compensation, I suppose." 

There were a couple of houses up on the bluff, but none down near the water. A fisherman was spreading his nets out to dry, his catch probably already sold in the little village on the other side of the island. "Maybe he'll rent us his boat for a while. What do you think?"

"We have sufficient funds. I will make an attempt."

Teal'c went to talk to the man and Sam wandered down to the water, unlacing her sandals and slipping them off as she went. The water was warm as it lapped over her toes; gulls screeched overhead and dove in the falling tide, hunting in the shallows and tide pools the retreating waves left behind. Sam dug her toes into the sand, unearthing a startled clam, which quickly dug its way down again. So many details, she thought with wonder. Whoever made this place got most, if not all, of the details right. Right down to the clams.

The fisherman in tow, Teal'c came back. "Alcyon will hire us his boat for the evening. He also knows where there is a cave near here, although he tells me there is nothing there but old eel hatcheries." 

"We'll give it a try, anyway. There's enough light, I think." 

The fisherman helped them get the boat into the water, giving Teal'c directions as they went. Soon, they were rowing up the coastline, sheer walls of volcanic rock rising to one side and the glass like sea at the other. Fingers of rock reached up from the waters, the remnants of a violent geologic upheaval many centuries old, by the looks of them. 

Rounding a series of these fingers, Sam saw a darkness in the rock face. "There it is. That must be the place." Teal'c looked over his shoulder and pulled harder on the oars, guiding them into the grotto.

The water lapped up on a small beach inside the cave and Sam hopped out and pulled the rowboat up on shore. It was dim inside the cave, but the remaining sunlight reflected off of the waters and lit the interior fairly well. They quartered the cavern and began looking. For what, Sam did not quite know.

"I really wish I had a flashlight. Or a klieg." 

"A torch would also be useful."

"Nice cave, though. Roomy."

"There is nothing here, Sam."

"Keep looking."

It was a big cave, but there was nothing there apart from some old, dry tanks and a lot of pornographic graffiti. At least, she thought it was pornographic; the pictures were certainly vivid.

The light was waning; soon they would have to either head back or find some way to build a fire and spend the night here. Neither option was appealing. Sam was feeling the passage of time very keenly, despite the lack of a watch.

"MajorCarter! Sam!" Teal'c called from the back of the cave and Carter came running. He was standing before a faded mosaic, picked out in seashells and bits of tile, depicting symbols like those on the scroll and the Stargate. Time had knocked several fragments of the picture down, fading the rest, but it was just legible. 

"All right, Teal'c!" She unrolled the scroll and compared it to the symbols, looking for patterns. "Wish Daniel were here," she said softly. "To read us the directions."

The same four symbols repeated themselves several times on the scroll. "How to implement, though." Tentatively, she pressed on the first symbol. Nothing happened. "Nothing ventured, I guess." She pressed the final three in order. Still nothing.

"The symbol of the Tau'ri is here, Sam." He reached up and pressed it firmly. Immediately, there was a rumbling around them and they were surrounded by floating rings and light and then were abruptly somewhere else entirely.

Sam's first thought was, I'm so glad Daniel was right. Her second was to crouch and look for Goa'uld or Jaffa. Ring devices were generally a bad thing in her experience. 

"This is not a Goa'uld vessel, Sam. The markings are different." He bent and touched the dusty floor, leaving a visible mark. "I do not think anyone has been here for many years." They stepped away from the rings on the floor and began searching the room.

Silver-gray dust coated every surface, unmarred by hand or footprint. She really wished Daniel could be here to read the embossed squares of writing that covered the walls. Not hieroglyphics, nor cuneiform. Those she would recognize, even if she couldn't read them. These resembled the writing from Ernest Littlefield's planet, more than anything. Vertical lines of blocky text that she had no idea how to even begin to decipher.

"Well, there's power, anyway." Panels in the ceiling provided a pale light that reminded Sam of the cobbler's shop. "And where there's power, there are generators and people to maintain them. Let's go looking."

"I will take point." Teal'c ducked through the open archway ahead of her before Sam had a chance to object. Glaring at his back, she scurried after.

The room they walked into resembled a reception hall of some sort. It looked more extruded than built, with softly organic lines and warm, lively colors, now faded with the dust that seemed to cover everything. Honey-gold light filtered down from the distant ceiling, bright enough to chase all shadows from the room but not so bright as to be painful. There was no sign of technology, apart from the physical building, and no sign of life.

"If DanielJackson was here," Teal'c commented, looking around the room in fascination, "he would be calling out a greeting."

She gave the gawking man a gentle push and said, "Let's find our stuff. Does this place look familiar to you, Teal'c?"

Slowly, he nodded. "Indeed. These forms and lines are known to me, but I cannot say when I have seen them before." He ran his hand along the gently flowing form making up the back of a chair. "It is warm to the touch, Sam."

"Yeah, and have you noticed how quiet our voices are? Almost like the room is absorbing the sounds we make."

"It is."

Sam jumped and turned, looking for the owner of the soft voice. "Teal'c, you see anyone?" Her hands itched for the weight of her P-90. In lieu of more decisive weaponry, she fell into a defensive crouch. It was very reassuring to feel the solid bulk of the Jaffa at her back.

"I see no one. Show yourself, ha'taaka!"

"Oh, such language! I have not heard such words for a score of years." The voice came from everywhere, and was low and melodic. At first, Sam thought it was a young man's voice, then an old woman's. "Speak again, for I do long to hear." That had been her father's voice.

"Master Bra'tac?" 

"Who is speaking!" Sam demanded. "We are peaceful explorers from the planet Earth, seeking help for our friends."

"Explorers? How wonderful!" a high-pitched voice exclaimed.

They were no longer alone in the room. A tiny dark-haired girl, no older than five or six, was leaning over the back of one of the flowing chairs. Her head was cupped in her hands, and she was drinking in the sight of Sam and Teal'c with wide green eyes. 

The girl was dressed as Sam had seen the children dressed back in Rome. Her loose tunic was a pale blue and her feet were bare, and a little dirty. She was missing one of her front teeth, giving her a slight lisp. "Tell me about your travels. What are your names? Why do your friends need help? How come your shoes have horses on them? Why is that man angry at me?"

Sam looked up at Teal'c, who looked more surprised than anything. "He's not angry; he always looks like that." 

Her teammate turned upon her with a hurt look. "I do not always appear angry. I was born with a grim visage." Turning back to the girl, he spoke in a much gentler voice than Sam had ever heard him use before. "What is your name, child? Where are your parents?"

"I do not have parents. Or I had one, but he is gone away. I am Culsu. Who are you two? Oh, I made a poem!" The child covered her mouth and giggled, bouncing with mirth.

Sam felt a grin stretch her face as well. "Well, I'm Major Samantha Carter, and this is Teal'c."

"Why is your name longer than his? He's lots bigger."

Teal'c went down on one knee before the child. "Your name is the same size as mine, Culsu. Yet you are far smaller."

"Oh! You are right!"

Grabbing the conversational initiative, Sam quickly said, "Are you here alone? Are there any grownups around? We need to get back to our friends quickly, and we might need help from the people here to do it."

"No people here." The girl climbed down off of the chair and climbed onto Teal'c's back, wrapping her thin arms around his neck. "Lift, please." Surprised, Teal'c stood, and the girl wrapped her legs around his waist. "Thank you." Culsu rested her chin on Teal'c's shoulder and regarded Sam very seriously. "Now we may speak eye to eye. Why are your friends in trouble?"

Appearances, she thought. This girl is more than she seems. "You were the one speaking before, in our minds. That was why we heard different people speaking. Are you reading our thoughts?"

With a pout to do any five-year-old proud, the child answered, "No. Too hard. I can speak into your minds, but not read them. It took a while to access your language and reconfigure my interface to match your needs. Now, how may I be of assistance?"

Startled, Teal'c swung the girl down to the ground. "You are no child. What are you?"

Sam placed a calming hand on his arm and addressed the little girl. "You're a computer interface?"

Culsu rolled her eyes, forcing a smile out of Sam. "In the simplest *possible * terms, yes. Can we get on with things? If you're not going to tell me about your travels, at least tell me what your friends are called."

"Doctor Daniel Jackson and Colonel Jack O'Neill. They're in trouble and we have to get back to them quickly with help."

"Goodness, Major Samantha Carter. You people use a lot of names! I like Teal'c's name better. Teeeel…ck. It makes my throat feel all hard and tickley. You came through the Chappa'ai, right?" She took Teal'c by the hand and began leading him away.

"To be honest, Culsu, I don't remember how we got here. I have vague memories of going through the Stargate -- the Chappa'ai -- and then waking up in the forest with the rest of the team, minus our gear and wearing… Holy Hannah."

The girl had led them into a long corridor that seemed to be made of glass. The sea was all around them, a deep sapphire blue, dimly lit with diffuse light from the corridor itself. The surface, far above, was dark with night. Schools of fish darted past in silvery waves, and a luminescent pod of jellyfish brushed the clear walls of the corridor in undulating billows. "Who is Hannah?" the girl asked. "And what is it to be holy?"

She's worse than Teal'c, thought Sam. "It's just an expression of surprise. This is beautiful, Culsu. Who built this place?"

"My father. Come quickly, now. You will remember soon and then you can tell me about your friends."

Flickering reflections from the sea-corridor lit the room they entered. "Lucerna!" the girl said, and the room was filled with amber light. "My father's workshop."

The room reminded Sam of her lab back on base. Not that anything scattered on the many work tables even remotely resembled any technology she had ever seen before, but in the general air of organized scientific chaos in which she usually found herself. Too many projects, not enough time. "Father tinkers," Culsu said, climbing up on a tall, mushroom-shaped stool. 

"He is…was…a scientist?" Sam asked.

"Scientist, historian, teacher, alchemist, thief, murderer…. Father liked to keep busy." She was searching the table, rooting through piles of glowing filaments and what appeared to be sheets of clear crystal, as thin as paper. 

At the child's description of her father, Teal'c stiffened. "Murderer? Whom did he kill?"

"Oh, lots of people. Here it is!" She grabbed a conical device and pointed it at Sam.

"MajorCarter!" Teal'c shoved the smaller woman out of the way and intercepted the beam of purple light which erupted from the tip of the device. With a choked off cry, he crumpled to the floor, holding his head.

"What did you do to him?" Sam knelt, fumbling for a pulse. He was still alive, but his pulse was rapid. Behind his closed eyelids, his eyes were moving as if he was dreaming. "What did you do?!" 

The girl hopped down from the stool and hunkered down next to the fallen Jaffa. "He will be fine, Major Samantha Carter. He is remembering. In a few moments he will awaken and growl at me for frightening him, just as you are doing now." She handed the cone to Sam and then sat, crossing her legs and propping her elbows on her knees. 

"Father was not a bad man," the girl said with a sigh. "He just wanted to find out things. He made the place up there and then took people and made them forget and put them in the world he had made in order to see what would happen. Then he let other people come and live in the world he had made, but he made them forget too well and they never came back to go home again. 

"Then Father left, or maybe he forgot, too. He told me what to do, though, if anyone came through the Chappa'ai. Make them forget and put them into the world. Then, if they came back, make them remember and let them go home. You are the first, though." 

The little dark-haired girl smiled suddenly, her eyes alight with mischief. "Can I tell you a secret, Major Samantha Carter?"

Her mind whirling, Carter nodded. 

Culsu took Sam's ear in her little fingers and pulled her down to whisper, "I was very naughty. I did not make you or your friends forget all the way, like Father instructed." She giggled then, covering her mouth with her hands and kicking her heels on the floor. 

This was not a database interface, Sam decided. This was a mischievous little girl who had been alone far too long. "Would you like to sit in my lap while we wait for Teal'c to wake up?" she offered. 

This made the girl grin ear to ear, and Sam found herself smiling in response. With an eager nod, Culsu scooted until she was cradled in the hollow of Sam's crossed legs and surrounded by her loosely draped arms. "I've got a loose tooth," the girl announced, wiggling it with her tongue. 

^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

With an eerily human scream, Jack's horse toppled in mid-gallop, sending his rider flying without warning. Daniel pulled hard on the reins of his gelding in alarm, almost toppling himself as the horse reared and pranced to a stop. He was on the ground before the animal stopped moving, stumbling back towards his fallen friend. 

O'Neill was crumpled on the paving stones, clutching his leg and making inarticulate sounds of pain that tore straight to Daniel's gut. He kneeled next to Jack, looking for injuries. There was movement in the night, all around them, but he ignored it for now. "Jack, Oh God, Jack…." His right leg was horribly wrong, sickeningly misshapen. Behind them, the horse screamed like a lost soul, then was abruptly silenced. 

Just as suddenly, Jack stilled. His eyes rolled back and he just slumped under Daniel's hands, unconscious. "Thank heavens for that," Daniel muttered. 

"//Hello, caronis,//" Hastatus' hated voice hissed in his ear. Startled, Daniel looked up to see the hand that knocked him sprawling. Pain flared across his cheek and he tasted copper; his head spinning, Daniel climbed to his feet and wiped his mouth. Caronis. Carrion. Lovely. 

"//I'm not dead yet, Hastatus.//" 

Hastatus just laughed as soldiers closed around Daniel, tying his hands before him and relieving him of the dagger around his neck. The soldiers, Praetorians no doubt dragged here from Rome by the feckless Caligula, set about securing the prisoners. They hauled Jack up over the withers of Daniel's erstwhile mount and tied him securely. He groaned softly once or twice but did not regain consciousness. 

One of the expressionless soldiers tied a length of rope around Daniel's wrists, then mounted his horse, giving the bound man a tug that almost sent him sprawling once again. Knowing better than to object, Daniel kept his eyes down and tried to watch his footing as the procession got underway. He looked over his shoulder once or twice, trying to check on Jack, but it was futile. The night, his eyes, and being constantly tugged made looking anywhere but at his feet a risky prospect at best.

The moon was setting as they neared the village, but there was sufficient light yet to see Hastatus' bulky form striding to one side of the soldier's ranks. "//Caronis!//" the man exclaimed, catching Daniel's tired attention. He skipped forward and leaned against a dark post, approximately seven feet tall. "//I'll see you in the morning, caronis.//" 

The stipe. Daniel's gaze flicked at it then focused on the ground once again. Hastatus laughed, a harsh, mad sound in the still night. Daniel felt a chill run down his spine, but kept his gaze down. One of the soldiers called for silence, and another half-drew his gladius. With a final chuckle, Hastatus complied.

He fell into step with the stumbling prisoner and said, conversationally, "//I have asked my master to be allowed to assist in your execution. This has been granted to me. Remember our time under the willow, caronis?//" 

Daniel kept his eyes on the uneven paving stones, and did not respond. 

"//I remember. I remember how you rolled like a dog in the dirt, and yelped like a child. Your brother was the same way, weak and puling. Pity about his leg; he will not survive the crux for long. He will watch you beg for death first, though, and know that you hate him for causing your pain. And you will suffer for days, caronis. I will mark you but lightly before you carry the patibulum back up this hill, I promise you.//" 

Daniel turned his head and stared at Hastatus. "//Where did you learn to hate like this?//" Part of him just wanted to shut up the taunting threats which were all to likely to be made good at first light. Part of him really wanted to know, though. Hatred like this was not natural; it was a conditioned response to something in the man's life. 

The first part of his wish was granted. Hastatus shut up. They walked on in silence, entering the much-subdued village. As they approached the curia, though, the man spoke again. In a still voice that brought back memories of Giza, Hastatus said, "**I learned to hate at the hands of those who took me from my mother when I was a boy and chained me to an auction block, far from my home. Harundo was sold to Callas at the same time as I, and we were brothers in all but blood from that day until the day of his death. Good night, carrion.**" He bowed mockingly and walked into the darkening night.

"oh." Daniel was sort of sorry he'd asked. The man had done too much, hurt Jack too much to allow forgiveness. Now, though, Daniel found himself beginning to understand the man. He did not want this understanding, this empathy. He had seen the human side of his enemy and found a little boy who reminded Daniel too much of himself, torn from his parents and set into a world that was, at best, indifferent. 

The soldiers untied Jack and carried him into the curia, boneless as a sack of meal. Daniel was shoved the same direction and, at length, found himself in the same cell they'd left a few short hours ago. Jack had been tumbled to the ground and left there, his broken limb askew and already swelling. The soldier was leaving, closing the door and taking the last of the light with him when Daniel realized they were going to leave his hands tied.

"Ah, 'scuse me! //Please…a boon?//" The soldier paused at the door, looking bored. "//My friend's leg is broken. Could you untie my hands so that I can tend to him?//"

The soldier just laughed, then pulled the door shut, leaving the room in almost total darkness. Daniel looked at the closed door for a moment in disbelief, then turned and began groping his way forward with his foot. "I hate this place. I'll never complain about the military mindset again."

A low groan near his feet made him stumble backwards. He hadn't realized he was that close. The back of the bench hit his calves and he sat suddenly, making the rickety thing creak and shift alarmingly. "Jack? You awake?" He scrambled to his feet again and nudged his foot forward he made contact. 

"Oh, ow…unfortunately…fuck…. What happened?" Awkwardly, Daniel helped him to lie flat, pillowing O'Neill's head on one of the folded cushions. His eyes were adjusting to the dim light finally, and he could see the ominous swelling of the broken leg as compared to the whole one. It was nearly twice as big, and looked darker, although it was very hard to tell. 

"Hastatus." Daniel started working on the knots that held his hands together, picking them apart with his teeth. "He was waiting, must have figured which direction we'd go and set up a couple of miles outside of town." The ropes were loosening, he thought, and kept chewing and spitting out bits of fiber.

Jack was quiet, his harsh breathing the only clue he was still awake and in pain. "Why?" he asked suddenly, startling the younger man.

Shrugging off the ropes at last, Daniel knelt and began examining Jack's leg, by touch and limited sight. This set off a fresh round of curses and Jack tried weakly to bat Daniel's hands away. 

"I think it's a simple fracture, Jack, but it's hard to tell in this light. Think you can make it up to the bench?" He flattened the wrinkled blanket and then stooped to get a shoulder under Jack's arm. "Short hop. Come on. Warmer than the floor." He was worried about shock. 

"Danny…wait…oh crapcrapcrapcrapcrapCRAP!" Daniel folded the blanket over the shivering man, tucking him in securely to hold in the body heat, and then held the waterskin to his lips.

"Drink this. You need the fluids."

The warmth, water, and stillness helped a lot. Jack still shivered, but he was becoming more aware by the moment. "Hastatus ambushed us? Shoulda seen that coming."

Daniel found the remains of Vispilia's numbing salve and began delicately working it into the broken limb. "Maybe. But we could just as easily come out of the forest beyond him. It was a chance, and we almost made it."

"Daniel, why did you stop?" Jack's voice was harsh in the darkness, and Daniel could not read his face. Angry? Sad? In pain?

"What do you mean? I had to. You would have stopped for me. I couldn't leave you behind."

Jack turned his head away and closed his eyes, blotting out Daniel's face, his eyes. "Don't fool yourself, Doctor Jackson. If the circumstance had been reversed, I'd be long gone from here. I'd regret it like hell, but I would not hesitate. I expect the same of you, if an opportunity presents itself this morning." 

He was pale, sweating and clammy. Daniel unwound his toga and began tearing strips from it, then draped the rest over Jack's shivering body. "I have to immobilize your leg, Jack, before they start dragging you around and doing more damage. Should I try to set it?" Wondering what he would use for splints, he looked around the cell and realized it was getting brighter. The sliver of sky he could see had turned a deep gray. It was morning. 

"Hell no, don't try to set it. Did you hear what I said, Jackson?"

The other bench, he decided. Aiming a sharp kick, he began breaking it down to its boards, being careful of nails. "I heard you." Before long he had two planks of roughly similar length. "Don't try to set it. I won't. I'm going to straighten your leg and splint it. That's all." He wondered why Jack was looking so angry, then shrugged it off. The man had a lot on his mind right now.

"That's not what I mean, Daniel, and you know it. If you get a chance, make a run for it."

"No. Reach up and grab the end of the bench, Jack. I'm going to try to do this all at once." He took the boards and laid them alongside the broken leg and looped the strips from the toga underneath, tying them loosely. 

"What do you mean, 'no'? This isn't a democracy, Danny; that was an order." 

Daniel checked to make sure everything was ready. "Okay, grab the end of the bench. On three, I'm going to straighten your leg out. Ready?"

"Did you hear me, Daniel?" 

"Yes. One." 

Jack glared. "So…?"

"No. Two."

Daniel took a firm grip on Jack's foot and ankle; alarmed, Jack reached up and grabbed the edge of the bench above his head. "Damn it, Daniel! Why not?"

"Three."

One hard pull, a scream, and two tugs and the deed was done. Wiping moisture from his cheek, Daniel secured the splint with two more lengths of cloth, tucking in the loose ends. He checked for a pulse on top of Jack's foot and relaxed slightly when he found one. Jack was trying very hard not to move at all, breathing through the pain until it subsided to a tolerable level. 

He was still for so long, Daniel began to worry. "Jack? You still with me?"

"Yashureyoubecha…oh FUCK that hurt!" Jack opened one, slightly glassy eye, and said, "I thought you weren't gonna try to set it."

"I didn't. I just flattened the angle a bit." Daniel gingerly lifted the immobilized leg and settled it on the folded pad. He flicked a glance at the sky. It was getting brighter, going to be a beautiful day. "They're coming for me soon, Jack." He piled the leftover bread and the waterskin on the floor within reach. 

"At which time you're going to make a run for it."

"I told you, Jack. No. No running. Not unless I can drag your heavy ass with me, and I don't think I'll get too far like that."

Jack clapped both hands over his face and made a frustrated noise. Daniel hid a smile; he loved provoking that sound, though he'd never admit to it. "Just go, Jackson. I'm expendable."

"No!" The denial was ringing in the still morning air before Daniel quite knew what he was going to say. "Not expendable! None of you are! Not you, not Sam, not Teal'c. None. Of. You. Get me, O'Neill?" Daniel stood and walked toward the pile of rubble left over from his bench destruction. He kicked a board and leg that had remained connected somehow, sending them clattering against the stone wall. 

The joint did not break. The board and leg remained as strongly affixed as ever. Daniel bent and scooped up the two scraps of wood and shook them at Jack. "This is why, O'Neill. This is us!" He tossed the scraps into the corner and dared his Colonel, silently, to comment.

"We're…uh…a broken bench?"

Daniel shook his head, "Connected, you ass. We're connected. And that's why I'm not going anywhere without you." Realizing he was shouting in Jack's face, Daniel's anger fled. He smiled sheepishly and sank to the floor, leaning on the bench on which Jack was resting. "Sorry. It's just…you're family. Hastatus was right about that at least."

Jack reached out and grabbed Daniel's shoulder, shaking him gently. "Danny do you have any idea what they're gonna do to you?"

Daniel glanced over his shoulder and just nodded. "Archaeologist. I probably know more exactly than you do what is about to happen. And yes, I'm very frightened." He was, he realized, terrified. Strangely, he was also calm. There was no choice in this so, as with so much in his life, he would endure and survive until it was over. Recently he had acquired people who would help him put his body and soul back together, when everything was done, so he wouldn't have to do it alone. It was a distinct improvement and a bittersweet perk to being a member of this strange family.

"Jack, it's a very simple equation. Sam and Teal'c will be at least two more days, even if they've already started back. A healthy man can survive up to seven days. The actual cause of death in most cases is asphyxia, when the pain of pushing up to breathe becomes overwhelming and the vic…person is exhausted. With one of your legs busted, you won't be able to breathe and you'd die within hours." Daniel was surprised to hear his voice break. He touched his face and it came away wet. Scrubbing it dry before Jack noticed, he said, "So, the obvious candidate to go first is me."

He turned and faced O'Neill then, who was looking at him with disbelieving, anguished eyes. The older man reached out and wiped a stray tear away. Daniel blushed furiously and turned away but was stopped. Jack grabbed the back of his neck, forcing eye contact, and said, "It's my job, god damn it. Not yours. You're a civilian, a scientist, and we can't lose you. I can't lose you." 

"You won't. That's the plan. I hang on until the cavalry comes, then we go home. End of discussion." 

The cell door opened as if on cue, and three soldiers came in, filling the room to capacity. The centurion said, "//It is time. I am to ask which will be first.//"

Daniel stood and said, "//I am.//" He looked down at O'Neill. "Two days, Jack. Sam and Teal'c will be back in two days, three tops. See you soon." 

"See you soon, Danny." 

Knowing it had to be killing Jack to just let him walk out, Daniel went quickly and quietly, not looking back. Despite the fact that there was no conceivable way to help him, Jack would be tearing himself up over not fighting the guards, over missing the ambush, over everything. Jack was good at guilt. 

The guards didn't bother tying his hands, evidently deciding a crushing grip on either arm to be sufficient to prevent escape. They dragged him up the stairs and through the marble halls of the curia, past the busts of the imperial family, and into the bright light of morning. The town square was almost empty; most of the villagers were probably hung over, Daniel surmised, and the transient population had moved on for the day. No risk of a riot today, unfortunately. That might have delayed things a while longer.

The town center was where most punishments were carried out, historically speaking, he recalled. A stout post stood in the exact center of the town square, thrusting up like a totemic phallus toward the cloudless sky. There were people clustered around the post and, though Daniel could not make out faces at this distance, he could hear Claudius' stammer quite clearly and was glad the Roman had escaped custody.

Drawing closer, Daniel saw the Magistrate, Hastatus, and a bored and yawning Caligula waiting with the stuttering man. "//Good morning, gentlemen. You know, if you wanted to get some more sleep, Little Boots,//" Daniel addressed Caligula, "//I'd be glad to go back to my nice cell for a few more days.//"

Claudius hid a smile as Caligula glared at Daniel. Evidently having had enough of the younger Roman's temper, the Magistrate stepped in hurriedly. "//Daniel, Tiberius Claudius has spoken with me at length regarding your case. While I cannot overturn your conviction, he has convinced me that he did, indeed, free you on the road. While such an action is unusual, it has been the law of Rome to assume a man to be free if there is the slightest doubt of his status.//" 

The Magistrate drew his own belt dagger and offered it, hilt first, to Daniel. The guards released his aching arms and took a step back. "//I offer you an honorable death, Daniel. One that will bring no shame to your family and which will certainly be less painful and ignominious than the one offered by the cross.//" To the Magistrate's left, Hastatus made a strangled noise of protest, but quieted at the official's glance. "//Well? Will you accept the mercy of the law?//"

Claudius looked uncomfortable once again, unsure. Knowing he had done his best, Daniel nodded his thanks to his friend, but pushed the dagger away with his open palm. "//I cannot accept, Honorable Timos. Tiberius Claudius has spoken falsehood on my behalf, though not intentionally. I was able to dupe him into thinking I was free, and that he had freed me himself.//" 

"//Poor Uncle Clau-Clau,//" Caligula said, laughing. "//Did you dip into his purse while he slept and buy your way free? Why did you not simply kill him as he slept? That is what I would have done.//" 

"//That…never occurred to me.//" Daniel recalled that Caligula had been, would be, killed by his own Praetorian guard, in conspiracy with key senators, a few years into his disastrous reign. A few years too late, in Daniel's opinion and then wondered when he had gotten so very bloody minded. "//At any rate, I am no citizen, Honorable Timos. I thank you for your offer, though.// And Sam and Teal'c will be here soon." 

"//What?//" The Magistrate tucked his dagger back into its sheath, looking confused. 

Looking at Claudius, Daniel said, "//It is an ancient blessing. In time of need.// Sam and Teal'c will be back soon. Go to Jack, keep him safe." He saw understanding dawn on the Roman's face and saw him edge back toward the curia, and then he was back in the hands of the guards.

They stripped him of his tunic and loincloth. The cool air of the morning made Daniel shiver, though his skin was hot with embarrassment. He was tied to the pole in the town center, face first, his arms stretched high above his head. Feeling his exposure keenly, he looked around myopically and noted that the town square was filling up. He heard the sound of children playing, and mothers scolding, and pressed himself into the splintered wood of the post, hiding as best he could.

The Magistrate called for silence and read the charges and the sentence. There was an approving murmur from the crowd, to Daniel's surprise. The guard on his left muttered, "//Mob's fickle. Cheering for you one day, throwing things the rest. Don't take this personal, boy.//" His words startled a laugh out of Daniel, and the guard looked at him oddly. "//You touched in the head, lad?//"

"//No. Just feeling a little fey.//" This was a period of grace, of stillness, and Daniel found himself relishing it. It would be over soon enough. He had not been exaggerating when he told Jack he knew what was coming. 

First he would be flogged, then he would be forced to carry his cross bar up the hill to the stipes. There, Callas' nails would be hammered through the small bones of his wrists, pinning him to the patibulum. Probably, they would tie his feet, saving the other two of Callas' spikes for Jack. After that, the struggle for breath would start, and the long wait. Provided Hastatus did not half kill him with the flagellum, he would survive for five or six days before succumbing to exhaustion. 

Plenty of time for Sam and Teal'c to get their slow butts back here and pull them the hell out of this mess.

The tenor of the crowd changed, growing hushed. Hastatus had taken his place, standing just within Daniel's line of sight, behind and to the left. The big man held a simple flagellum in his hand, and wore an expression of gloating anticipation. Fighting the urge to turn away, to close his eyes, Daniel caught the man's gaze and held it, unflinching. "**I am no slave to cower before you, Hastatus. I am afraid, but my soul is free. You are slave to your hatred. Which of us is less free? **" 

The gloating expression vanished, replaced by anger and, of all things, confusion. Daniel smiled serenely and turned away then, wondering at himself. Things were about to get very bad, and he was taunting the devil to do his worst. "Definitely been spending too much time around Jack," he muttered. 

Then there was no breath for words, no thought, nothing but pain and fire as blow after searing blow landed on his bare skin. He lost his footing at one point, shortly after his voice went hoarse from screaming, and hung helplessly from the post by his wrists. Hastatus was methodical, moving down his back, over his buttocks, to his legs, then back up the other side, painting lines of agony with his harsh brush. 

Somewhere around eighteen, Daniel lost count. 

Sometime after he screamed his voice away, Hastatus stopped.

After a few moments, it dawned on Daniel that it was over. A few moments later, another thought filtered sluggishly through his mind, and he decided his wrists would hurt less if he tried to stand. The task was tremendous, almost too much to accomplish, but he decided to try. His back and shoulders screamed at him as he moved his legs, though, and he gave up the idea as completely unworkable. 

The ground came up to meet him as the decision was taken from him. Someone, he reasoned slowly, must have cut the ropes. He gave up thinking then, just glad to lie on his side on the soiled, churned, bloody ground with no one hitting him. Bliss. Daniel closed his eyes for a moment, just for a moment, and the world slipped away.

It came back with a wet rush as one of the guards poured a bucket of water on his back, and Daniel awoke with a painful jolt. Sweat and blood combined with the water, trickling agony into every lash and cut. If he had a voice left, Daniel would have screamed. All that came out was a pinched groan. 

"//Get up.//" The centurion hauled him to his feet and held him there while the world turned around him in slow, dizzying jerks. He felt so weak, so tired. Everything hurt, hurt worse than anything he'd ever experienced. His brain felt like mush and he couldn't seem to draw a deep breath. Every time he tried, his back would stab painfully and catch him short. After a few minutes, though, the worst died down and he was able to stand on his own. Not straight, but he was standing.

He slowly became aware of sound again, apart from his own harsh breathing. The crowd was shouting, laughing, and yelling things. With the little bit of his brain that was still working, he tried to translate what they were saying, but gave it up after just a few minutes. This was probably the entertainment highlight of the month, he thought, and tried to stand a little straighter, swaying. He wished for something to cover himself; the kids shouldn't be seeing this horror-show. "Perpetrates the system of violence against the individual…" he muttered.

"//What?//" The centurion at his side asked. Daniel just shook his head tiredly. Another period of grace, he thought. 

It was over in the next breath. Two soldiers approached, carrying a long, roughly hewn log. They laid it across Daniel's shoulders, making him stagger and nearly fall under its weight. When he had his feet once again, they yanked his arms back and over the top of the patibulum and tied them in place. The wood ground into his raw skin, forcing a whispered cry from his bitten, dry lips. It was happening. It was too real. 

Bent nearly double with the weight of the thing, Daniel stayed upright mainly by force of will and by the knowledge of how much more it would hurt his back and arms if he fell at this point. A hard shove to get him moving nearly undid him, and he stumbled painfully forward. The centurion led the procession out of the town square. Daniel blinked sweat from his smarting eyes and kept them focused on the man's back. He concentrated on placing one foot before the other; he would not think about what was at the end of this little hike. 

Despite the horrific weight bearing down on his raw shoulders, Daniel slowed his footsteps. Oddly enough, this was another period of grace. It would end when they reached the stipes.

^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

After about five minutes, Teal'c awoke, growling as predicted. "You should not surprise people like that, Culsu. It could be dangerous."

The tiny child looked gravely down at the recumbent Jaffa and then planted a kiss in the center of his golden brand. "Sorry, Teal'c. I did not mean to frighten you." 

Sam hid a grin behind her hand as the child transformed the fearsome warrior into putty. He sat up and accepted Culsu into his lap, scolding with a fierce face, but gentle eyes. "Next time, you will warn me before pointing anything at Sam or anyone else in our vicinity, will you not?"

"I promise," the child said with her slight lisp. "Now can you tell me about your friends? Or does Major Samantha Carter need to remember too."

"Call me Sam, Culsu. And I think it's enough that Teal'c remembers. Can you lead us to our things so we can start back? I'll tell you about Daniel and the Colonel on the way."

"That will be satisfactory." The little girl sprang up and took Teal'c by the hand once again, pulling him after her. "Come with me."

She led them back down the sea corridor, then down a series of branching halls. As they walked, Sam told Culsu about their 'adventures' in the world above, editing out the worst bits. The child was an appreciative audience. She gasped and made sad noises when Daniel was belted by the blacksmith, and clapped and bounced when they found Jack and rescued him. 

"Now," Sam finished, "Daniel and Jack are waiting for us to come save them. That's why we need our weapons…"

"…and Daniel's glasses!" Culsu piped up.

Sam smiled at the energetic mite. "…and Daniel's glasses so we can go back and help them."

"Oh!" The girl stopped suddenly and turned to face the two adults. "I just had an idea!"

Teal'c dropped to one knee to bring the girl to eye level. "What is your idea, infans?"

The girl climbed onto Teal'c's knee and cupped his ear, whispering into it. 

"Can you do that?" Teal'c looked surprised.

"Father would be very cross with me, but you will not tell him, will you?" Culsu looked anxiously at Sam and Teal'c, biting her lip.

Teal'c shook his head solemnly. "Never. I think this is a very good idea. We shall put it to practice when we have our weapons and DanielJackson's corrective lenses."

"Wonderful! Come on!" The child hopped off of Teal'c's knee and scampered down the hall, leaving the two adults to run after her.

Almost beside herself with curiosity, Sam decided to save her questions until they got where they were going. The kid was fast and these halls were twisty. 

Finally, after what seemed like a mile of the looping tunnels, the girl stopped before a door and reached up toward a panel next to it. She could not quite reach, and stomped her foot in frustration. Turning, she looked up at Teal'c and said, "Lift me, please."

Teal'c complied and the girl pressed her tiny hand to the panel. The door swung open soundlessly. "Lucerna!" The room was bathed in amber light and Culsu darted inside.

She led them down row after row of cylindrical bins, none of which were labeled. The girl seemed to know what she was looking for, though. She stopped suddenly, standing before a section that looked identical to all the other extruded lockers, and said, "Here is where I stored your belongings." 

Sam opened the first one and handed Teal'c his staff weapon. The Jaffa curled his hand around the staff almost tenderly, and smiled. Grinning, Sam looked in the next one and gave a yelp of joy. Her BDU's, folded neatly in a stack, with her sidearm on top. "Yes! Teal'c, go around the corner for a few minutes. I feel the need to get into uniform." She reached into Teal'c's bin and tossed him his clothes, then shooed him away.

Refusing to be shooed, Teal'c instead stalked around the corner with dignity.

It took a matter of moments for Sam to peel off the grubby green tunic and the band around her aching breasts and to slip, sighing, into the olive drab and black she'd been dreaming about. Underwear, fatigue pants, bra, T-shirt, socks, boots. Heaven.

Culsu was looking at her strangely, and Sam had to laugh. "Don't ask me to explain, kid. I just feel much better now." She bent and lifted the tiny girl into her arms, settling her on her hip. "Hey, wanna tell me what you told Teal'c?" She kept a secure arm around the girl's waist as she opened the next bin. The name on the jacket said O'Neill. She plucked out the gate remote and the Colonel's uniform and P-90, setting them on the floor.

"It's a secret, Sam."

"You can tell MajorCarter, Culsu." Teal'c, now also back in uniform, came around the corner. "She needs to know the plan, and it is yours to tell." He held out his arms and Culsu climbed from Sam to Teal'c like a monkey, ending up perched on his shoulders.

"I am so tall! I can touch the sky!" Teal'c kept a secure hold on the girl's kicking feet, and smiled a tiny smile.

"Culsu. The plan?" Sam looked in the final locker and pulled out Daniel's pack, uniform, zat, and glasses. This last she carefully tucked into a secure pocket and snapped it down. She needed her knapsack, or something else in which to carry this stuff.

"Oh! The plan! I can put you into the world near your friends, if that would help. And bring you back here quickly, but only if I can come with you."

Stunned, Sam said, "That will help a great deal! How soon can we go?" Her watch was less than useless right now; it showed 1300. 

Squirming, Culsu asked to be put down. Once on the ground, she opened a new bin and pulled out an empty cloth knapsack and started putting the Colonel and Daniel's clothes into it. Teal'c quickly scooped up the P-90 and zats before the child could touch them. Sam tucked the gate remote into her pack and then transferred the first aid kit to the backpack the girl was working on.

"When the surface is light, we can go. There are certain places in the world where we can put people. The nearest to your village is about ten of your miles from there. It would be best not to travel at night. There are bad people in the world."

Sam hefted her P-90 and checked the ammo. Still full. "I think we can handle the bad people, and we need to get to the Colonel and Daniel as quickly as possible."

Teal'c said, "The child may not accompany us, Major Carter. It might be dangerous."

That stopped Sam short. She had not registered at the time when the girl said she would have to accompany them back. Culsu was not really a little girl, Sam knew. She was a construct of some kind, intended as an interface with whatever computer system ran this complex, this world. She was, however, very like a little girl; impulsive, vulnerable, hyperactive, and cute as a button.

Now, for example, she was standing in front of Sam with her arms stretched upwards. Bending to the girl's demand, she set aside her weapon and scooped the girl into her arms. "I can take care of myself, Sam. I will bring the remembering thing and put anyone who approaches to sleep." Her big green eyes were pleading, reminding Sam of a certain guileless linguist.

"Are you sure you can't bring us back here unless you come with us, Culsu?" 

The tiny girl nodded vigorously. 

"Okay, then. But you can't go running off when we get up top, you get me?"

Teal'c spoke up then. "Culsu, I would advise you to say nothing at this point except for 'I get you, ma'am.' MajorCarter will become testy otherwise."

Sam stuck her tongue out at the Jaffa, who merely raised his eyebrow and shouldered the now full pack. "Shall we go?"

The girl rode on Sam's shoulders, directing with nudges of her bare feet in the Major's side, until they arrived at another large open room. "The Stargate!" Sam was very glad to see that round circle of stone, and barely restrained herself from running over and dialing home just to make sure it was real. Unfortunately, that would delay their rescue, as General Hammond would no doubt insist on a trip to the infirmary, a lengthy debriefing, risk assessment, another debriefing once the rescue was a go, and who knew what other delays. 

Any delay was unacceptable.

"So, how do we get back into the world?"

A nudge in her right side turned Sam toward a flat black wall. "Say the name of the village, Major Samantha," the girl on her shoulders instructed.

"Okay. Um…I don't know the name. It was a village on the crossroads of the Via Appia and the Via…."

"Domitana," Teal'c supplied.

The wall shivered, and ripples flowed across it like water bugs skating across the surface of a pond. An image formed slowly: dawn lighting a clearing in a grove of ancient oak trees. "What now?" Sam asked, as the image solidified.

A nudge on both ribs. 

"Walk forward?"

A giggle and another nudge.

Sam really hoped she had read the girl right, that she wasn't a threat, and wasn't leading them into danger. She did not think she was wrong, but there was always a chance. "Okay. We walk forward. Teal'c, take point."

Staff raised and ready, Teal'c stepped through the image. Sam followed, the giggling girl patting the image and making ripples just before they stepped through and into the clearing. Sam quickly swung the girl down and brought her P-90 up. This was the same clearing. The one where they had first entered this mad world. 

"Okay. We're here. Now how do we tell which way to the village?" Sam scanned the trees, the dawn-gray sky, and wondered where the hell they were.

"I think I know, MajorCarter." Teal'c moved into the trees, following a faint path, and Sam followed, keeping half an eye on the skipping little girl. 

"Stick with us, Culsu. Don't go running off, okay?"

"Okay. What does that mean? Oh kaye. I know that they are letters, but what do they stand for? In context, it means 'do you understand' or 'is all well?' or many other things. Your language is very confusing, Major Sam." The child kept up a running commentary in her piping voice, not really giving the major a chance to answer.

The path ended in another clearing, in front of a familiar looking hut, half tumbling down in disrepair. His staff weapon charged and humming, Teal'c strode up to the door and knocked hard, rattling the unstable structure.

"Teal'c, what are you doing?" Sam pushed the girl behind them and wondered if the Jaffa had gone mad.

The door opened and an old man looked out, turned pale, and tried to close the door again. "MajorCarter, this man is known to us. He sold you to the slavers, do you not remember?" Easily stopping the door from closing, Teal'c pushed his way inside. He barked something at the quivering old man, who answered in a tremulous voice and pointed vaguely to the southeast.

"Kree, ha'taaka!" Teal'c pointed the staff weapon at the man, who paled and pointed in the opposite direction.

Dropping his aim, Teal'c snarled at the man and strode back out the door. "The village is approximately ten miles to our northwest." He swung Culsu onto his back and began running. Sam followed close behind, breaking into the ground devouring trot she'd learned in basic. 

The sun was just coming up over the hills. If they could maintain this pace, they'd hit the village in about three hours, if the old man had been telling the truth. The miles fell behind them as they ran over hills and through fields, startling the field workers who were just setting out to work. Culsu was enjoying herself immensely, from her perch high on the Jaffa's strong shoulders. Her long, dark hair fluttered like a banner in the brisk morning breeze.

Sam felt like she could run like this forever. She routinely ran six miles a day on her treadmill, but there was something invigorating about the air in this world. The ground came up to meet her feet, cradling them as she pushed off for the next stride. If it were not for the anxiety of wondering how her teammates were faring, she would be enjoying herself almost as much as Culsu.

The sun was well up when they topped the rise that looked out over the village. The campground was empty, Sam noted. The village itself was kinda quiet, with people going about their business in a subdued manner. They descended into the valley, and entered the little village after another fifteen minutes walk.

Their clothes earned them some strange looks, but no one would stop and talk to them. Matrons hurried their children along before them like clucking hens protecting their broods, and men gave them a wide berth as well. Everyone seemed furtive, almost ashamed, and no one would meet Sam's eyes.

"I don't like this. How can we find the Colonel and Daniel if no one will talk to us?" 

They reached the city center, the place where the two roads met. It was surrounded by marble buildings and a large open area, probably where they held market. "Teal'c, do you think they already escaped? Maybe we should head south."

"Carter!" The Colonel's voice was weak and distant. "Carter! Tell me that's you!"

"Colonel?" His voice sounded like it was coming up out of the ground. "Keep talking. Where are you?"

"In some damn cell. Look at the base of a big marble building. And hurry, damn it!"

His voice sounded hoarse, tired, but she was glad to hear it. She quickly located three small windows, near the ground. "Colonel?"

"Here, Carter!" The middle window, then. She knelt down and looked in, but could see very little. 

"Is Daniel with you?" She could make out two forms in the dim little room, one lying down, the other sitting against the door. 

"No, he was taken a couple of hours ago. Don't waste time with me; go find Daniel!"

Sam looked around for the building's entrance, then went in at a run, Teal'c at her six with Culsu clinging to his shoulders like a miniature jockey on a very strange horse. She ran down a long hall, looking for doors or, failing that, someone to shake down. The ideal candidate quickly presented himself as they rounded a corner.

Caligula looked at the militant trio in alarm and turned to run, but Sam caught him in a headlock and slammed him against a white marble wall. She twisted his arm up behind his back and said, "Where are Colonel Jack O'Neill and Daniel Jackson?" 

His voice growling, Teal'c translated. 

The youth could not answer fast enough, though part of Sam wanted him to slow down so she could have the pleasure of twisting his arm a little higher. "What's he saying?"

"He will take us to the Colonel. DanielJackson is along the road to the south of the village. He is very sorry and wishes he had never tried to kiss you. You are, apparently, not at all attractive to him any more. I, myself, find nothing wrong with your appearance, and am quite displeased that he attempted to forcibly kiss you." The Jaffa snarled something in Caligula's ear that made him go even paler.

Twisting the man's arm up a little higher, she got her revenge for that little scare. "You make me feel all warm and rosy, Teal'c. Let's get the Colonel and go find Daniel. I'll take Culsu; you handle this little creep."

They made a curious procession, but the guards at the door at the bottom of the stairs stood aside at Caligula's order. Sam zatted them for good measure, buying some time. As an afterthought, she zatted Caligula too, leaving him in a pile with the guards.

The Colonel was struggling to sit up, untangling himself from the blankets and the sheet that covered him. Claudius was at his side, helping, when Sam and the Jaffa came in. 

"What happened?" A crude splint was tied to the Colonel's right leg, immobilizing it. "Can you walk."

"Uh, that would be a no. I ordered you to go after Daniel." O'Neill sat up at last, looking very pale and haggard. "Daniel…they were going to…they whipped him. I heard it. About an hour, hour and a half ago. Claudius knows where." He was obviously in a lot of pain, his words coming between short breaths. Sam rummaged in her pack and found the pre filled syringes of Dem/Phen. A shaking hand stopped her before she could get the cap off. "Danny will need it more. Go get him, Carter. Go on."

Sam put the syringe away, the Colonel's words finally sinking in. Daniel, whipped? By who? Why? Questions could wait though. "Colonel, our escape route is approximately sixteen klicks to the northwest. Let Teal'c carry you out and we'll get a wagon or something when we have you topside." 

The Colonel nodded. "Okay. But you go now, with Claudius, and get Daniel. They...it may be too late. May not. Hurry, god damn it!"

The urgency in his cracking voice spurred her. She grabbed Claudius and dragged him out the door. He looked in alarm at the unconscious forms of his nephew and the guards. "They're fine, Claudius. Just asleep. Dormitum." He smiled, recalling their first English lesson together, and nodded his understanding.

"Hurry, Sam. Daniel crucifis. Ita?"

Crucifis. Crucifix? Sam went cold with dread. "Shit. Come on." She hit the street at a run, Claudius loping behind her, and said, "Where?"

The Roman pointed along the road leading south, and she took off at a sprint. Every step was a prayer. Don't let me be too late, don't let him be dead, don't please God let him be nailed to a fucking cross. The mind wanders down strange roads under fear and stress, and she found herself reflecting on the irony of praying to a supposed God who had allowed it to happen to his Son, not to let the same fate befall her friend. Not that she'd been in a church in years. Not since Mom… not since she was fourteen or so. A few more sprinted steps and the prayer just turned into pleasepleaseplease.

The road was climbing now, leaving the city, and Claudius was still keeping up. His limp was slowing him not a jot, though his breathing was coming fast and gaspy.

No, she realized with a start, that was Daniel. She stumbled to a stop against the mile stone, catching her breath and stared, her mind not able to accept what she was seeing. It was so alien, so wrong, that it did not connect. That could not be Daniel, must not be. Was.

The moment of disorientation passed when Daniel opened his eyes and looked into hers. "Oh, Daniel." His image wavered and she furiously fisted tears away with one hand, and zatted the guards who were stationed around the cross with the other. 

Daniel looked around in vague confusion, his breath shallow and wheezing, as the soldiers fell away. "What…" He had no voice left, Sam noted with dismay. The word was a bare whisper. "Sam?"

The cross was short, barely tall enough for his tied feet to clear the ground, and the cross bar seemed to be resting on the top of the main post. His hands were curled forward like claws, and iron spikes were driven deep into both wrists. Sam felt nauseated. "God, Daniel. I'm so sorry." She had no idea how to get the battered man down without hurting him further.

Claudius came loping up at last, out of breath and sweating. He cried out softly and looked sick when he saw Daniel. Sam started working on the ropes that were pinning his legs to the post. Stepping up quickly, Claudius removed his toga and eased it around Daniel's body, holding him up as the ropes came away and taking all the strain off of the impaled wrists. Daniel's breathing eased immediately, though Sam could see him shaking from where she stood. He's in shock, she thought.

A tug on Sam's pant leg drew her distracted attention downward. Culsu. "You shouldn't be here, little one!" She covered the girl's eyes, turning her away from the heartrending sight.

"Major Sam, I can help." Culsu moved pushed Carter's hand away firmly and held out her arms to be picked up. "Lift, please. Shoulders." The wide green eyes looked very old, suddenly, and Sam reminded herself that this was not a child at all. She bent and lifted the tiny thing to her shoulders and let herself be guided over to the cross.

"Be ready, Tiberius Claudius Drusus Nero Germanicus." Culsu took the head of the cruel spike in her tiny hand and pulled, holding Daniel's forearm steady against the beam. He came fully awake then, bucking weakly in Claudius' arms and making a sound like a scream, but with no sound behind it, only pain. Then the nail came free and Culsu threw it far away, wiping her tiny hands clean on her tunic. "Other wrist," she said in a tiny, shaky voice.

Sam stumbled over, wiping tears from her eyes. "Almost over, Danny. It's almost over," she said, more to herself than to her twitching friend. Get him down, dose him up, get him home. God, she was ready to go home.

"Here we go. Be ready to catch him." The nail came out with a shriek, and Danny bucked again, a ragged groan whispering out of his abused throat. Claudius caught him in his strong arms, then, as he sagged to the ground. Sam put Culsu back on the ground and helped Claudius wrap the shivering man in the toga, holding pressure on each wrist to stop the bleeding there. Sam felt the shattered gravel of his wrist bones beneath her hand, and wondered if Daniel would be able to use his hands again.

He looked up at her and smiled tiredly, but did not speak. After a while, he closed his eyes and seemed to go to sleep, though he might have passed out. Sam sniffed and zatted the guards again, who were showing signs of waking. She hoped sufficient time had passed that they weren't dead from the second shot, but she could not bring herself to be too concerned for their well being. 

"Claudius, can you bring Teal'c here with the wagon?" To her surprise, Culsu translated in rapid Latin. After a moment's thought, she realized there was no reason the girl shouldn't be able to speak Latin, but it had never occurred to her to ask. 

"He says he will bring them back soon, Sam. Will Daniel be all right?" 

"I hope so. Hand me my backpack. I have medical supplies in there."

Claudius loped back down the hill to the village and Sam set about assessing Daniel's injuries. A shot of Demerol and Phenergan for pain, a shot of penicillin to stave off infection, and then she unwrapped the still shivering man to assess his wounds.

She bit back a curse; his back looked like hamburger. She had nowhere near enough supplies. Best to just concentrate on keeping him free of pain and out of shock until Janet could get her hands on him. Where the hell was Teal'c? 

Gathering Daniel into her arms, she wrapped the bloody toga more securely around him and settled in to wait. She leaned against the mile marker stone, Culsu a warm little weight leaning into her side. Daniel never stirred, and his shivering gradually eased as the sun warmed them. The bleeding seemed to have stopped; every breath he took while on the cross had reopened his back wounds, judging by the dark stain on the wood. 

Repositioning herself slightly, Sam made sure that, if Daniel woke, he wouldn't see that damned tree. Sam did not want to look up and see it, either. His head lolled on her shoulder, his breath light and warm on her neck and smelling faintly of wine and something bitter. He did not stir.

At long last, the clop of hooves and creak of harness heralded the arrival of the rest of SG-1. She shifted slightly and heard a very soft, "Sam?" 

"It's over, Danny. All over. We're going home."

^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^ *

"Do you see them yet?" Jack bit back a curse as the wagon lurched again, jostling his aching leg painfully. Trees passed slowly by, and O'Neill felt like getting out and pushing. 

The Jaffa shook his head, and slapped the reins over the backs of the stoic pair of mules Claudius had commandeered from the Magistrate's stables. The floor of the wagon was thick with mattresses and pillows, for which Jack was very grateful. Two big sheepskins were laid over the thickest concentration of padding, under the tarp in the back. O'Neill really hoped it was overkill.

"We there yet, Teal'c?"

"I see them, O'Neill." Teal'c's voice was grim and angry. Jack looked over the side of the cart again, but couldn't see anything. Claudius had looked sick when he'd come stumbling back into the village square, and did not look much better now. "MajorCarter! We have arrived!" The Jaffa pulled back hard on the reins and handed them to Claudius, jumping lightly to the ground.

No matter how Jack twisted, his leg prevented most movement. Daniel had done a great job of splinting it, but the swelling had yet to go down, and that was making even thinking of moving far very painful indeed. What was taking so long? "Hey! What's going on out there?"

"Just a moment, Colonel." Carter sounded as shaken as Claudius looked. 

Impatient, he tried to peer over the top of the wagon's wall again and found himself face to face with a pair of sad green eyes. "Uh…Hi." O'Neill lost his grip on the wagon and fell back on his cushions, clutching his newly throbbing leg. The child climbed into the wagon and landed on a pile of pillows with an "Oof." She was tiny, no older than five or six years old, and barefoot. Her long, dark hair was tangled and windblown, and her blue tunic had dark stains on it.

"Hello," she said. "I have a loose tooth." She poked her tongue against it to demonstrate. "Major Samantha thinks it might come out tomorrow. I am Culsu. Are you Colonel O'Neill?" 

Confused and charmed, Jack nodded. "You can call me Jack, though. Where did you come from?" He had a vague memory of a child back in the cell, when Carter showed up the first time, but Daniel's screams had been echoing in his memory and his only thought had been to get Sam on the road to rescue him. 

"My Father made me. His name is Caput Lupinum, but I call him Aita. Or Father." The child moved to the rear of the wagon, wading through the soft mire of padding, and smoothed out the sheepskins. "He made everything. Here comes Daniel Jackson." 

Carter walked around the back of the wagon, her eyes red, and unlatched the back panel. "Hello, Colonel," she said, climbing in. She wouldn't meet his eyes, focusing over his shoulder, or looking away. "Teal'c's right behind me." She scooted out of the way, straightening the sheepskins as she went, and partially blocking Jack's view. "Culsu, is there anywhere closer we can go to get back? I want to get home as soon as possible." 

It sounded like she was two words away from weeping, her voice thick and clogged with the effort of control. Jack thought about why this might be and scooted closer to the end of the wagon, ready to help.

The girl shook her head, answering Carter's question. "There's one ten miles down the road, or ten miles over the hills. There is a portal hub on Ponza, of course, and one in Rome. The next closest is near an inn, twenty miles north of here." 

Her little girl lisp was deceiving, O'Neill decided. "I have the impression there is more to this little girl than meets the eye, Major." Jack eased his leg straight, leaning back against the wall of the wagon with a wince.

Carter nodded distractedly, and then Teal'c was setting Daniel in the back of the cart, taking infinite care. Sam helped to position the far too still man on the sheepskins, turning him on his side and bolstering him with cushions so he wouldn't roll. 

When the Major finally moved out of the way, Jack's stomach turned. He's so pale, he thought. So still. They had him wrapped up, his bruised arms free of the fabric's embrace, but wrapped individually and splinted from elbows to fingers. The blood had seeped through at several places, but it was drying now. Then he saw the hands, lying curled and clawed on the soft sheepskin, and he could not look higher. Couldn't look to see if Daniel were awake, damning Jack with his eyes. 

"Sir." This was going to change the man forever. "Sir?" He could still hear Daniel's screams, growing hoarser and hoarser, though no more terrible, with each thunderous crack from Hastatus' whip. "Sir!" 

"What!? Damn it, what, Carter?" He glared at his 2IC, looking crisp and comfortable in her BDU's while Daniel was wrapped in a fucking shroud. "What the hell took you so long, anyway? Stop to see some sights on the way? Pick up some souvenirs?" His anger was irrational and he knew it, regretting the words before they left his mouth. Still, the poison dripped into the shocked silence and he could not stop himself. "I trusted you to get back in time; *he * trusted you." 

Making no response, Carter latched the wagon's end panel again and climbed back into the wagon, settling near Daniel's feet. "This wagon has no shocks, and we're going to be driving over some bumpy ground, Sir. I need help bracing Daniel. Can you make it back here?" Her voice broke on the last sentence. She busied herself propping pillows and bolsters around Daniel's body, making certain he was padded on all sides and would not roll. Only the occasional sniff gave her away, and she kept her eyes on her busy hands.

Collecting himself, cringing with shame, Jack nodded once. He took a deep breath and said, "Yeah. Sorry. Yes. On my way." He levered himself partially upright and half lurched, half-limped back to the tarp-covered area. Daniel looked even worse up close, pale and shivering in the mild warmth of the day. 

He was also awake, his eyes open and sleepy, staring up at Jack. Shaking his head once, rocking it against the pillow, he whispered something Jack couldn't hear. No damnation there, no accusation in those eyes. Just fatigue, pain, and sadness. 

Wedging himself against the side of the wagon again, Jack brought head and pillow to rest in his lap, extending his unbroken leg behind Daniel to support him further. Carter piled pillows around them both, making sure O'Neill's splinted leg was raised and immobilized. 

"Thanks, Carter," Jack said. She mumbled a reply, still not meeting his eyes. He stopped her, catching a hand and then catching her eye. "Carter…Sam, I'm sorry. You made it back way before Daniel guessed you would. You did good, and I'm glad you're here."

Anger, shame, gratitude, and relief made for a strange expression, if that was what Jack was reading in his 2IC's face. The warring features eventually settled into a kind of watery smile, and she squeezed his hand, hard. "With all due respect, Sir, you can be a real bitch sometimes."

"I am aware of that, Major. Carry on." 

"We're set, Sir. Teal'c, let's go. Culsu, why don't you go up front and keep Claudius company for a while."

"C-Culsu…gate-keeper of unnerworld…." Daniel's voice was barely above a whisper, but Jack could hear it and he smiled down at the pinched and pale face in his lap.

"Hey, Danny," he said softly. He brushed back the damp strands of hair with his stiff fingers. "How ya doin'?"

"Feel like I got stepped on. Big el'phant. You?" The eyes were open a bit wider now, but the voice was no stronger and Jack had to strain to hear above the creaking harness as they got underway.

"Also pretty crappy. What were you saying about a gate-keeper?"

For a long moment, Jack thought his friend had fallen asleep again, then, feather soft, he heard, "Etruscan. Culsu and Mania guarded the entrance. Demons."

The little girl picked that moment to bean Claudius on the head with one of the more tasselly pillows. "Demons, huh? I can believe it. Where did you get the kid, Carter?"

As they spoke, Jack could feel Daniel relaxing bit by bit, letting the reality of his friends soak into his psyche, taking comfort in their nearness. Jack brushed a few moist strands from Danny's warm brow and found himself stroking the man's hair, soothing it back. He supposed he should feel self-conscious, but it felt good, and he thought it might be comforting. It sure comforted Jack.

Sam was doing the same thing to Daniel's feet, rubbing them lightly as she braced his wounded body against the sway of the wagon. "When we got to Ponza, we found Daniel's grotto. Culsu was there. I believe she's a construct of some kind, like an android, but I'm fairly sure she's flesh and blood. She has a loose tooth."

Jack nodded. "She showed me."

From the front of the wagon, the little girl sang, "I am an homunculus! A changeling! A demon childe!" She solemnly handed Claudius a pillow and giggled.

Sam quirked a little smile. "Any way, she apparently has been following her programming for years, putting people into this world after wiping their memories, and just got lonely. She left us with most of our memories intact and waited for us to find our way to her."

Plausible, but there was something about the story that had bothered Jack from the beginning. "What about historical figures like Claudie, or that Caligula guy? They didn't just wander into a Stargate and into this picturesque little hellhole. History recorded their deaths."

Carter's hands stopped moving as she thought this over. "I, I don't know, Sir. I hadn't thought…Culsu! Stop hitting Claudius with that pillow and come here for a second."

"He was hitting me, too, Major Samantha." Claudius dropped his pillow and attempted to look innocent. Culsu bopped him one final time and then scurried over and plopped down against Carter's side, cuddling under her arm until she was draped across Carter's lap. "Yes, Sam? How is Daniel? Is he better?"

Jack looked down at the tousled head in his lap, noted the even breaths, the limp limbs. Asleep, thank goodness. "He's resting, Culsu. I have a few questions to ask you."

The little girl yawned, and wriggled into a more comfortable position. "Okay, Colonel Jack. But I may not know the answers."

O'Neill nodded. "I can accept that. Tell me where Claudius came from."

"Lyons. Well, Rome, but he was born in Lyons. Ten BC. Why?"

Carter poked the little girl in the nose, eliciting a giggle. "What the Colonel wants to know, mite, is how he came to be here, and young again."

"Oh! Well, my Father made a device that reaches into the past and pulls people out. Claudius was nearly dead of Julia Agrippina's poison, but Father turned back the hourglass and the sands flowed upward. The years fell away, and the waters of Lethe washed away all memory of his life, until he was a child again. I wish I could have fixed him; he has what you call cerebral palsy. Father would not hear of it, though, and became quite cross when I suggested it."

"Amazing." Sam was gaping down at her wiggling lapful with wide eyes. "But it makes some sense. Not actual time travel, but manipulation of temporal possibilities. And I suppose you put them back the same way, a whole new life span lived, when they reach their natural death here?"

"Uh huh." The girl nodded, playing with the Major's dog tags.

A thought entered Jack's mind, and he said, "Can you turn back that hourglass for oh, say, an hour? And what would happen?"

Culsu rolled over in Sam's lap and regarded Jack seriously. 

"You would be an hour younger."

Jack nodded in annoyance. "And?"

"And what Colonel Jack? What do you want to know?"

Daniel twitched, groaning as the wagon hit a particularly jarring bump. The little girl patted his feet, rubbing in soothing circles, and the semi-conscious man calmed down, murmuring to himself again. Controlling his rising temper, Jack said, "I want to know if it would heal Danny."

The little girl looked startled then bit her lip, thinking. Jack stroked Daniel's head, combing through the drying strands with his fingers, and rubbing the man's temples lightly. At length, the child said, "I think so. I do not see why it would not. But you would want a day or so. Twenty-four hours, rather than one. It would be as if the day had never happened. No hurts, no memory."

"Perfect." Jack nodded in satisfaction. "Teal'c, drive faster."

The plodding mules would not, however, be hurried. It took the better part of the day for them to find the oak grove once again. To Jack's profound relief, Daniel slept through most of it. He was still sleeping when they finally reached the grove and could go on sleeping, as far as Jack was concerned, until they got him fixed up. 

He called Carter and Claudius over to help him up, leaving Daniel in the wagon for the moment. With Claudius under one shoulder and Carter under the other, Jack hopped off of the wagon with little discomfort. "Culsu, go do that voodoo that you do."

"You made a poem, Colonel Jack!" The giggling girl skipped forward and stood between two oaks, her arms outstretched. A shimmering black curtain stretched from one to the other. Slowly, the ripples cleared and Jack could see strange shapes and glowing structures. To one side, he saw a bit of a Stargate, and felt an almost overwhelming sense of homesickness. The construct reminded him of the quantum mirror Danny had fallen into, but this was just hanging there, strung between two trees.

"Teeeeel…ck, take point," the girl sang, and Major Carter laughed quietly under O'Neill's arm. Then she stiffened as the sound of an arming staff weapon brought the group to a stop. 

"I don't believe this! Hastatus. Carter, hand me your P-90 'cos I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch. What's he saying?" 

"He says what they always say, O'Neill," Teal'c said. "Give up now, or you are all dead."

"Well, *that's * not gonna happen."

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The world was rocking softness and distant pain. Fading in and out, Daniel vaguely registered that his head was in Jack O'Neill's lap, and that the Colonel was stroking his head. Too tired to be surprised, Daniel gave in to the softness, the closeness of his friends, and his fatigue and let himself fade out again.

The next time he woke, the rocking had stopped. Gingerly propping himself on one elbow, he looked around blearily, but the wagon was empty except for gear and pillows. "Jack?" Daniel was surprised at the whisper of voice, and the pain that accompanied it. He tried again, but with no better result. After a third try, he gave it up as a lost cause and decided to go looking for his friends.

This proved much easier to contemplate than to accomplish. He was tangled up in a long sheet that was stuck to his back, and there was something painfully wrong with his hands. His wrists. His mind shied away from the memory of why his wrists hurt so badly, and he concentrated on sitting up, then on swinging his legs over the back of the wagon. Someone had thoughtfully left the gate off, and he sat there for a moment, waiting for the sudden rush of dizziness to pass. Sam must have doped me up pretty well, he thought vaguely. 

"Culsu, go do that voodoo that you do!" Jack's tired voice and the childish giggle that followed drew his attention. "You made a poem Colonel Jack!" A child? Daniel wondered if he might not be hallucinating, but the pulling agony in his back was too real. He had vague memories of a childish voice, mixed with Jack's gravely voice, answering questions. 

He leaned against the side of the wagon for a moment, his arms resting in his lap, and contemplated standing. Perhaps it would be better to wait for one of the others. Surely they'd come back for him. Lethargy turned his limbs to lead, and he decided he was content to sit.

The sound of a staff weapon powering up brought him around instantly. "Teal'c?"

"//Surrender now, or you will all perish. You will return with me to the Magistrate.//"

Jack's irate voice said, "I don't believe this! Hastatus. Carter, hand me your P-90, 'cos I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch. What's he saying?"

Standing carefully, Daniel looked around the side of the wagon. Hastatus had Teal'c's staff weapon aimed at his friends. Jack was being held up by Sam and Claudius, and Teal'c was carrying a little girl. They couldn't do anything against Hastatus. 

Gear. Backpacks. Daniel remembered seeing their backpacks in the wagon. It was worth a try. With fingers that did not want to bend, Daniel wrestled open one of the packs and upended it. BDU's, the gate transmitter, and some MRE's. Nothing useful there, unless Hastatus could be forced to consume the Tabasco sauce that the government insisted on putting inside every MRE packet. 

Daniel snagged another pack, his wrists aching with every jarring movement. He set his jaw and opened the backpack, spilling its contents on top of the first. To his profound relief, this one held a zat. Cradling it in his stiff hands, Daniel looked around the side of the wagon again. The tableau had not changed. He armed the hand weapon and fumbled for the trigger, not quite able to feel it. Almost by accident, the weapon fired, and Hastatus collapsed in a ball of blue fire.

The temptation to pull the trigger again was almost overwhelming. Daniel was frightened by his sudden desire to annihilate this man, and he dropped the zat before he could find the trigger again. He was not afraid of killing, but only in self-defense. Never in anger, never in fear, and never for the sake of vengeance. 

"Way to go, Daniel!" Jack crowed. 

Leaning against the side of the wagon, Daniel waved tiredly. Teal'c scooped up his staff weapon and nudged the unconscious man over onto his back. "What shall we do with this ha'shak, DanielJackson?" He looked down at Hastatus with disgust. 

Daniel shrugged. "I don't really care, Teal'c. Just wanna go home." He clutched the toga with his clawed and crabbed fingers and avoided looking at the man on the ground. The ground was starting to look pretty good, actually, all cool and green. His whole body hurt terribly and he was starting to shake again. 

"Send him back with the wagon," Sam suggested. "By coming after us, he became a fugitive. Let Callas deal with him." She looked to Daniel; somehow the decision had become his. Well, there was a certain ironic justice to it. 

At Daniel's tired nod, Teal'c tied Hastatus' hands and hoisted him into the wagon, clearing it first of their gear. He then led the mules back to the path and sent them ambling on their way. 

"Hate to just let that bastard go. You okay, Daniel?"

The bent man huffed a tired, bitter laugh. "No. Not really. Can we go home now, Jack?" 

A little girl approached him and looked up, solemnly. The child he had heard earlier. "Follow me, Doctor Daniel Jackson." She pulled him toward a shimmering portal that hung between two trees. "Home is this way." He let himself be pulled through, stumbling momentarily until Teal'c steadied him with a careful hand on his arm. 

The room on the other side would have been fascinating, if he were not so damn tired. He had an impression of organic shapes, warm light, and a Stargate. "God, I'm glad to see that," he said. His voice broke and he was surprised at how close he was to tears. "Home now?"

Sam and Claudius settled Jack on a low bench. "In a bit, Daniel," Jack said. 

"Just a little farther, Doctor Daniel." The girl led him to a table and said. "Lie down."

Daniel looked at Jack, who nodded. "She says this thing will fix you up, Daniel. Go on."

He looked at the table dubiously. "Not like a sarcophagus?"

"Nothing like a sarcophagus, DanielJackson. Culsu thinks the procedure will heal you."

A little alarmed, Daniel pulled away from Teal'c. "Procedure? What procedure? And who is Culsu?" He had a vague memory of the name; Etruscan guardian of the underworld, usually depicted as an old woman holding a pair of scissors.

The little girl who had led him through the shimmering curtain held up her hand. "I am. Me. I am Culsu. Nice to meet you." She covered her mouth with both hands and giggled. "I made a poem."

Daniel had to smile. Her giggle was infectious. Still, "Tell me about this procedure." He was starting to shiver again, and really wanted to lay down somewhere for a while. Preferably a nice, warm infirmary. The room was spinning slowly, and his knees were feeling very wobbly. "Why can't we just go home?"

"Daniel, your wrists are shattered," Jack said bluntly. "Janet can't put you back together again. Culsu thinks she can."

So that was why his hands wouldn't work right. The nails must have… He tried to flex his wrists and gasped as the pain shot up both arms and burrowed into his shoulders. "Okay. What do I do?"

"Just lie down, Doctor Jackson," the girl said. 

With Teal'c's help, Daniel stretched out on the table. It molded itself to his shape, cradling him with no pressure on his ragged back. It felt cool, then warm, and then Daniel felt no pain at all as the light grew brighter around him. He heard a distant hum, like a broken hymn, and tried to follow the tune but lost it quickly, as the bed grew warmer beneath him. Soothing warmth, melting into his aches and giving him ease.

The pain in his wrists went first, and he hands finally relaxed. The healing warmth traveled up his arms, to the strained muscles in his shoulders and back. Then down his back in licks of soothing heat. 

He didn't know just how long he lay in the bed's embrace, but eventually the light faded around him and the bed firmed beneath him. Taking the hint, he sat up, wincing as the toga pulled on the welts left by Hastatus' willow whip.

"How you feeling, Danny?" Jack asked. 

Sam walked up and slipped something into his hands. "My glasses!" He put them on, clumsy due to the splints, and sighed happily. Everything came into focus for the first time in days, and the first thing he saw was that everyone was looking at him. "What?"

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Teal'c went with Daniel to change, leaving Jack waiting impatiently on his bench. He looked around and saw Sam and Claudius whispering together in the corner, the kid up on Sam's shoulders. Probably translating. They looked excited and a bit worried. "Carter, shouldn't you be finding a DHD or something?" His leg was hurting like hell and all he wanted right now was Dr. Fraiser and her happy meds. 

"Culsu will dial out, Sir. Before we go, though," she hurried over to him, the kid still perched on her back like a parrot. "Claudius was telling me that Callas had cru…executed several of his workers before attending your trial. We were thinking that some of them might still be alive."

Jack kicked himself mentally. He'd all but forgotten about that. Kind of strange, though, that the Roman would take an interest. "'Claudius, any particular reason you're wanting to help out here?" He didn't think the man had a guileful bone in his body, but he was also an unknown. "This sort of thing has been going on for a long time now. Why haven't you tried to stop it?" Culsu translated softly.

"Sir, I…" he held up a hand and Sam stopped talking.

The man looked uncomfortable, listening to Culsu's translation. He replied briefly, then limped away to start packing.

Culsu said, "His reasons are the same as my reasons." She stood before him, shifting form foot to foot, picking at the dark stain on her tunic. That's blood, Jack realized. Daniel's blood. "You were never real to me before, Colonel Jack," she said at last. Her voice was very quiet, and there was a sadness in her wide, jade eyes that had not been there before. 

"Since taking on this form, I have gained a new perspective. I have seen your love for your friend, the gentleness with which you held him. I have felt anger myself, when I saw his pain. So fragile, but he fought me when I removed the iron from his wrists. Claudius feels as I do, and we want to change the world my Father made. He wants to stay when you go, and free Father's world. Starting with the men from your vineyard."

"With our weapons, it would not be a long delay, Sir," Carter added. "There's a portal near the Drunken Carter. We can be back within a half-hour." 

Jack looked up into the eager faces of his team and decided his leg could wait a half-hour. "You have a go. But if it looks dicey, you pull out and hare back here, get me? And take Teal'c with you. Culsu, run find him quick and let him know what the plan is." The girl was off like a shot, bare feet slapping against the floor.

"Th-Thank you, Colonel," Claudius said. 

Jack nodded, a little surprised that the man had spoken. The Roman had been hanging back for a while, he realized. Lending a hand where needed, but not really interacting with the team much. Back in the cell, Jack had been too preoccupied to notice the man at all. He had vague memories of being handed food and water at intervals, but he had been too caught up in what he was hearing outside to have any appetite. It had been worse when the screaming stopped, though. He remembered soft, meaningless words, and himself railing at his inability to change things. Claudius had stayed with him, though he could have left at any time.

"Sam, how are you coming with the Latin thing?" he asked. 

Sam looked up from the backpack she was loading and said, "Fair, Sir. Why?"

"Need you to translate for me." He beckoned her over.

She looked surprised. "Maybe you better wait for Daniel to come back, Sir. You'd get better results." 

"Just do your best. Tell Claudius thank you for all the help he's given us. Tell him we never would have made it here if it hadn't been for him."

Sam smiled and said, "I've told him all of that already, Sir. But he'll be glad to hear it from you." 

Sure enough, the man smiled like a star going nova, it was that bright. His whole face just lit right up. Jack had to wonder what the man's life had been like when a scrap of praise would fuel that warm a glow. 

A delighted squeal from down the corridor drew his attention. Teal'c, Culsu on his shoulders, came charging in the room. Daniel followed close behind, trying unsuccessfully to control his laughter. The Jaffa circled the room twice, galloping like a racehorse, before swinging the little girl high in the air and swooping her down for a landing. "There, infans. You must stay here and mind O'Neill and DanielJackson. We will return soon."

"But, I must open the door for you on the other side. I must go with you."

Sam said, "This time it'll be too dangerous, kid. Can't you just open the door from this side, or keep the door open for us?"

"Well, yes. I suppose. But I want to help, as I did with DanielJackson." 

Jack controlled his flinch, saw Sam look guiltily at Daniel, and saw the questions already forming on the younger man's face. Well, he never intended to lie to the man about what happened. For a start, he would probably work it out for himself. Better to meet it head on; at least he would have no actual memories of his ordeal to keep him awake at night. The man had enough nightmare fodder in his brain all ready.

"You can help by keeping our escape route open, infans," said Teal'c. "We must depart now."

With a pout a mile long, the little girl opened the portal again. Jack recognized the pathway to the pool behind the Drunken Carter, shimmering in midair. "Good luck, kids. Be back before curfew." Sam, Teal'c, and Claudius stepped through the portal and disappeared down the path. 

The room was quiet when the three had gone. Jack tried to get his leg into a more comfortable position, but on the hard little bench it was difficult. It was throbbing, now, and he really hoped the rescue mission was over quickly. 

Daniel was strangely quiet. He was standing, his arms wrapped around his body, and staring off into the distance. Warning bells went off in Jack's head. There were fascinating lines of script on the walls that he was completely failing to show any interest in. Always a sign of trouble. "Daniel? You okay?"

"You keep asking me that, Jack. I'm fine. Is there some reason I shouldn't be fine?" The younger man's voice was tight with barely held control. "Sam keeps looking at me like I'm going to shatter, and Teal'c won't meet my eyes. What happened that I'm not remembering, Jack?"

"Daniel, I…"

"I saw the toga, Jack. I had to peel it off of my skin. The blood stains down my back, my legs. Hell, my wrists." His voice cracked, but the volume kept escalating. "You've got a fucking Shroud of Turin in there and I haven't got a mark on me, except for a few welts and a fading goose egg on the back of my head." He took off his glasses and rubbed his still sore eyes, trying for some measure of control. "It's like, there's something tickling at the back of my head, something that wants to be remembered, but it didn't happen yet. I know that makes no sense. Like a reverse deja' vu." 

Crap. Jack looked at Culsu, who looked sad, but not surprised. "Sometimes it is thus. Memories too strong for forgetting refuse to go. They camp and lay siege at your doorstep, like frightened children yearning for your hearth to warm them."

She scampered off and returned a few minutes later with a cone shaped device. "This will make you remember, DanielJackson." She placed it in his hands and went and sat in the corner, a little bundle of sadness.

Daniel turned the device over in his hands. 

Best to meet it head on? Like operating without anesthesia was more like it. If he didn't tell him, though, Daniel would make himself remember. "Don't, Danny. You're right that something terrible happened to you. You don't need to remember, all you have to do is ask. Isn't it enough to know what happened, without remembering it?" 

The man went pale at Jack's words as understanding dawned. They had never been able to speak openly of it, but Daniel understood. "They did it? Really did it? We didn't get away? I thought…. And Sam found me; that's why she can't look at me." He looked at the device in his hands like it was a poisonous snake. "You healed me, somehow, and the process erased my memories, right?" He looked up at the little girl in the corner, who nodded. "This will bring my memories back?" She nodded again. "What will happen if I don't use it?"

"Nothing. You will remember everything in time, probably, except for details."

"And if I do?"

"You will remember everything. Vividly." 

Crapcrapcrap…just once, Daniel, let it go. He could see the need to know and the fear of that knowledge written plainly across the young man's face. "Let it go, Daniel. Just this once. There's all kinds of hell I'd forget if I could. Let this one stay buried as long as it likes. Trust me."

Daniel sat on the floor, his legs crossed, and looked down the barrel of the thing. "I don't really want to remember, but it feels like cheating not to." 

The little girl stood up and padded over to him, taking the device from his hands. "It is not cheating." She laid the thing to one side and then picked up Daniel's hands and kissed the inside of his wrists, one and then the other. "It is a blessing. The waters of Lethe cure as well as curse."

Daniel sat, lost in thought, then looked up at O'Neill, his eyes watery blue, and smiled shakily. "Okay. We let sleeping dogs lie."

"There are no dogs here, DanielJackson."

Jack laughed, surprised, and the tension broke. "Culsu, are you sure you're not related to Teal'c?" Daniel was smiling, though, and that was a miracle. "I think there's a bit of family resemblance, don't you, Daniel? Maybe around the eyes."

"I was thinking more around the ribs," Daniel said, and reached out with wriggling fingers. He tickled the child unmercifully until she collapsed in a pile of giggles in his lap. "Yep, definitely Jaffa material. Stoic," tickle, "stalwart," ticklegiggle, "and stout of heart." The girl jumped up and ran to Jack for protection, hiding behind his bench.

"Save me, Colonel Jack!" 

Far sooner than expected, the curtain shimmered and the rest of the team walked through, alone. "Where's the rest of the party?" Jack asked. 

"Horace Hospes sends his regards, O'Neill, and says not to worry." 

Sam dropped her pack and sat on it, combing her hair with her fingers. "Apparently he rescued the men the day after Callas left. Caupona is taking care of them now, and they will be moved to a safer location soon." She smiled fondly at Claudius. "Claudius has a villa nearby. He volunteered the use of it until the men can fend for themselves."

"Generous. Okay, Culsu, dial us up. Time to go home."

"Sir, I don't think it's going to be that simple," Carter said. "We've been gone for more than a week; our mission was supposed to be completed in two hours. Surely the General will have blocked out our gate remote, won't he?"

"True, but trust me. Culsu? Will you do the honors? Daniel knows the coordinates." The two went off to confer and Jack motioned for Sam to hand him his pack. He dug for a minute and pulled out the gate remote, punching in numbers. "Emergency override. We never had to use it before, but General Hammond wanted each of his team leaders to have a guaranteed backdoor home, if things got dicey. The codes change at random, but we should be okay."

"Should be, Sir?" Sam looked at the Stargate doubtfully. "With all due respect, I have no desire to be splattered on the other end of the wormhole. Can't we, I don't know, throw something in to test first? Morse code?"

Jack looked around. "We could send a message through, ask for a response. Good idea, Major." He quickly wrote out the coordinates to this Stargate and a brief note to General Hammond, including the last three override codes.

"Heads up! Activating," Daniel called. The 'Gate opened with a liquid whoosh, then subsided again. "Alarms must be going off like crazy back home." Jack handed him the letter and he sent it through. Jack activated the gate remote, then sat back. Daniel looked longingly at the blue, shimmering pool and said, "I really want to step through, Jack."

The gate vanished as suddenly as it appeared. 

Culsu climbed into Sam's lap again, playing with her dogtags. "Gonna miss you, Major Sam 'n' Teal'c. I do not have anyone to play with." She looked up at the Jaffa with bright eyes and said, "Will you not stay and be my playfellow?"

"I cannot, infans. I am needed among the Tau'ri. But, at the Drunken Carter, there is a little girl for you to play with, and an apprentice blacksmith named Alvanus who, I am certain, will let you ride upon his back if you ask him."

Sam looked at the Colonel with sad eyes. "No, Major, you can't keep her. But she's welcome to come back with us if she likes." 

The girl shook her head. "Claudius is staying, so I will stay."

"Claudius?" Daniel looked at the Roman in surprise. "Why? Come back with us." He repeated himself in Latin, and the Roman answered him, the limping cadence of his speech determined, but sad.

"He says he knows this place is not his world, but these people are his people and he will not abandon them. If Culsu can make everyone remember where they are from, he will help them find their way home," Daniel translated. "I told him he was welcome on Earth and that Culsu knew the way." 

The wormhole activated again, and a piece of paper came sailing through. Sam retrieved it and handed it to O'Neill as the 'Gate winked out again. "It says, SG-1, come home. Dial her up, Daniel, and let's move out."

**The End**

* * *

**Translations in order of appearance**

Sedare. Ejus a me - Easy. It's just me.

Ego audire tu. Daniel dormitum. - I heard you. Daniel is asleep.

Si placet, Sam. Dormitum es 'asleep'? I-ita - Please, Sam. Dormitum means 'asleep,' right?

Tace \- Silence

Progredi \- Move (forward)

Vexatoris tu, Milesitis Senex - Did I anger you, old soldier?

Iter facere - March faster

Desistere \- Stop

Egere aqua - You want water?

Milesitis grandis. Bellator vallidisium - Great soldier. Mighty warrior.

Non militaris. Marmoset nos! Concidere, marmoset. - You're no soldier. You're a marmoset. Come down, marmoset.

Tace \- Quiet

Canis \- Dog

Nil mortus tu - I'm not going to kill you.

Scia? \- Understand?

Plecta mia tu. - You will be punished

Carus para dominus - Master paid alot (for you)

Adde furca - Bring the furca

Custodia agere - I will guard him.

Hastatus. \- (a) spear or pike; also the guy's name

Iteras. \- Repeat

Bene \- Good

Salute, Canis. Bene somnus? - Hello, Dog. Good sleep?

Aqua. Sitis tu? - Water? You're thristy?

Obtinea aqua tu. - You will have water.

Sequae, Canis. - follow, dog

Carnifex. \- Executioner

Biba toto queo - Drink all you can.

Bellator caederae Harundo - the warrior killed Harundo

Harundo mortus est - Harundo is dead

Bibae, cito - drink, quickly

"Nex omnes, Milesitis Senex. Tace ac abceda." (You'll kill us all, Old Soldier. Be quiet and go.) 

"Effugio!" (Escape)

"Necare mie frater, nothus!"(you killed my brother, bastard) "Canis! Mori tu!" (Dog, you die!)

Mansuetus \- Mild or mildly, also the name of the guard who helps Daniel and Jack escape.

  


* * *

  


> Danae, Karen, and Lems Betad the first bit, but I got impatient and beta'd the rest myself. Thank you to everyone who commented or made suggestions as this sucker was going up on SG1HC.
> 
> And a big big thank you to Stacey of the rabid plot bunnies. You kept me going, ma'am.

* * *

> September 9, 2001  
> © The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp.  
> The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters  
> who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names,   
> titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television,   
> Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd.   
> Partnership.  
> This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and   
> solely meant for entertainment.   
> All other characters, the story idea and the story itself   
> are the sole property of the author.   
> 

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End file.
